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SiSi^DER 



ly 







Ilis Choice 


Page 50 







f 


Autliof of “Agm-s :in<l Mattie,” “Florence Walton,” Kez/.ie' 
Corner,” “Marion Elliott,” “Marion Warrington,” “ Flos- 
sie 'I'liornton’s Investment,” “The Dennison's," 
anil “Mrs. ( toldwortli’s Cliaritv.” 




PHILADELPHIA ; 

59[,meriean I^aptist publication gocietj;, 

1420 Chestnut Street. 




I 

¥ 







His Choice. 


MAY F. McKEAN, 

»» 

Author of ** Agnes and Mattie*’ Florence Walton^ “ Kezzte’s Corner,’* 
** Marion Elliott F “Marion Warrington,’’ “Flossie Thorn- 
ton’s Investment^ “ The Dennison’s,’’ and 
“Mrs. Goldworth’s Charity. ’I 


% r 

“ To thine own self be true, and keep 

Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil. 
Press on, and thou shalt surely reap 
A heavenly harvest for thy toil." 

Park Benjamin. 





PHILADELPHIA I 

AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 
1420 Chestnut Street. 




' N. " 




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1888, by the 
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 





CONTENTS, 





CHAPTER I. 

^ PAGE 

Discussino the Prizes 5 

CHAPTER n. 

A Very Ordinary Person 14 

CHAPTER III. 

Two Not “Very Ordinary” Persons 25 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Commencement and Paul Elverton 34 

CHAPTER V. 

Three Gtirls Talking Over the Future 42 

CHAPTER VI. 

Plans and Aims of Three Young Men 51 

CHAPTER Vn. 

Clayton Carmon’s Views 64 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Blessings and Benefits 74 

CHAPTER IX. 

Father and Son 89 

CHAPTER X. 

New Year’s Eve in Church.. 100 

CHAPTER XI. 

Reba’s Self-Imposed Burdens 113 


^3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XII. 

PAOB 

A Visit to Mrs. Blumm 127 

CHAPTER Xm. 

Reba Obtains Clearer Views op the Truth 137 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Death in Two Homes 147 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Medical Commencement 154 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Reba Coes to Anotecer Extreme 162 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A GtREat Change 169 

CHAPTER XVin. 

A Wedding. 180 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Paul’s Unexpected Summons 186 

CHAPTER XX. 

Waiting for the Bridegroom 195 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Rob and Clayton in Conversation 206 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Clayton AS Clerk.. 215 

CHAPTER XXni. 

Sad Close op Clayton’s Life 225 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

All Things Work Together for Cood 236 


HIS CHOICE 


CHAPTER I. 

DISCUSSING THE PEIZES. 

O N a pleasant April morning ‘preceding the June 
of their graduation, the whole graduating class 
for the year had gathered during recess in the large 
schoolroom of Hallberg Academy. Three of the 
girls, Edith Hendry, Reba Ashwood, and Nora Read, 
were very intimate friends. Though unlike in dispo- 
sition, as well as in appearance, a very strong tie 
seemed to unite them, and they were always to be 
found together. Several other girls and four or 
five boys made up the class, and they had now gath- 
ered together, and were discussing the prizes which 
had that morning been announced for competition. 

Reba Ashwood, who never would consent to be 
conventional and proper, sat on a desk, swinging one 

foot carelessly in the aisle. She opened the discussion : 

6 


6 


HIS CHOICE. 


Well, girls, what do you think of the prizes this 
year ? ” 

Why don’t you ask us what we think of them 
asked Clayton Garmon, turning from the window to 
speak over his shoulder. 

‘‘I suppose Reba thinks there’s no chance for us 
boys, if the girls make up their minds to carry off the 
best of them,” replied another from the group of boys, 
Rob Senderling. 

I suppose Reba thinks you are very saucy ! ” said 
that young lady, though her attempt to be severe was 
somewhat of a failure. The dimples did not leave her 
face long enough for the slightest suggestion of a frown, 
and they all understood that her words were spoken 
in pleasantry as much as those which had called them 
forth. 

Nora Read was sitting upon the seat, the desk of 
which was occupied by her friend Reba, and was half 
resting against her in an easy, graceful sort of fashion ; 
in fact, Nora'Read did everything iifan easy, graceful 
way. She was the first to give Reba’s question a 
direct answer. 

I think the same of them that I did last year, or 


HIS CHOICE. 


7 


the year before, or yesterday, before they were an- 
nounced. They are always the same — the ‘ Foster 
Prize’ for Mathematics, and the ^ Weldon Prize’ for 
Composition. I suppose Mr. Foster and Mr. Weldon, 
who left the money to be invested for those particular 
prizes, had those two branches for their especial 
hobbies.” 

Not the least doubt in the world of it,” replied 
Reba, in a tone which seemed to declare her agree- 
ment to her friend’s statement as final and satisfactory. 

But what I meant was, what do you think of them 
with reference to your chances of being one of the for- 
tunate ones ? You will try for them, of course ? ” 
There is no choice so far as the Weldon contest is 
concerned. You know the whole class must write, 
whether they want to or not. I wish I could be ex- 
cused. I don’t like to write composition, and never 
did ; so Pll freely give you my chance for any prize,” 
replied Nora. 

Edith sat at a little distance, helping one of the 
girls from a younger class to understand a problem in 
algebra. When the signs were to be changed, or, in fact, 
what was the use in changing them in any case, was 


8 


HIS CHOICE. 


something that puzzled her exceedingly. But now 
Edith Hendry was making the matter somewhat 
plainer to her mind than it had ever been before. 

The young teacher, however, stopped in the midst 
of her explanation to answer this last remark of her 
friend. 

You don’t mean, Nora Read, that you are 
not going to try and do the best you can?” she 
asked. 

‘‘ The best I can without too much trouble,” an- 
swered Nora, with a light laugh. 

Then I think you would do well to give up your 
chance for one of the prizes to Reba Ashwood. For, if 
I am not mistaken, she will take any amount of trouble 
to make sure of capturing the first one,” remarked 
Rob Senderling, who now joined the group in the 
centre of the room. 

Yes, sir, it won’t be my fault if I don’t take it,” 
replied Reba; with a determined and significant shake 
of her head. 

Which one have you appropriated, Edith?” asked 
Rob, looking across to where the thoughtful face was 
bent over the slate again. 


HIS CHOICE. 


9 


Edith stopped and looked up, with her pencil 
poised over the spot for the next figure. 

I have not gone quite so far as that yet, Eob ; but 
I shall do my best, and write the very best composi- 
tion I am capable of. However, I should' do that if 
there were no prizes at all.^’ 

I declare, Edith Hendry. You are exasperatingly 
good ! said Eeba, though still good naturedly. ^^But 
tell me honestly, isn’t there somewhere in your make- 
up a little touch of vanity which would be pleased if 
you were really to carry off the first prize, notwith- 
standing that declaration of indifference ? ” 

I certainly should not refuse to accept it if awarded 
to me, nor would I be indifferent to the honor ; but, 
really, if I do the best I can, why should I feel badly 
if some one with greater talent does better?” she asked. 

Girls, you might as well, all of you, give up at 
once, so far as any hope of the Weldon Prize is con- 
cerned. Edith Hendry is going to take the first one, 
you may be sure of that,” said Nora Bead. 

Don’t be too sure of that, my lady,” replied Eeba. 

I shall not give up in any such faint-hearted style, 
and she will have to fight for it if she gets it.” 


10 


HIS CHOICE. 


“ I shall not fight, I assure you ; but I have no 
right to do less than my best,’’ replied Edith, return- 
ing again to her slate and the girl beside her. 

Edith takes the first and Reba the second, 
there will be nothing left but the poor, lonely little 
third for us boys,” said Rob, glancing towards the 
window, where several of the other boys still stood. 
‘^What do you say — shall we try for that?” 

I haven’t heard the report of the Committee of 
Award in regard to the second yet,” replied one who 
evidently agreed with Nora in regard to the first. 
He said it with a laugh that made Reba feel uncom- 
fortable. And then another added : 

^^As long as we must write, we may as well do our- 
selves justice.” 

^^Are we to understand that you girls are going to 
leave the Foster Prize to be unmolested ? ” asked one 
of the boys, glancing in the direction of the most 
prominent figure in the other group. 

Amy Goodwin, one of the girls near Reba, declared 
her intention of entering the contest. Reba was not 
altogether certain whether she should or not. Nora 
decidedly avowed her opinion that it ^^was too much 


HIS CHOICE. 


11 


trouble.^’ And indeed it would have been for Nora 
Read, since she had never taken the pains to do con- 
scientious work through the term. And a prize for 
mathematics is not to be jumped at on Examination 
Day. 

Edith was deep in her explanation again, and did 
not even hear the question. If she had, she would 
probably have given the same sort of answer that she 
had given before. Edith Hendry always did her 
best. It was a principle which she had not left out 
of her school life. 

Presently the girl whom she had been helping 
looked up with intense satisfaction. 

Thank you, Edith. You have made it all quite 
plain. I think I understand it entirely now,” she 
said. 

I am glad I was able to help you,” replied Edith, 
heartily. And then the girl carried her slate and 
book to another part of the room, and ran out for the 
few remaining moments of intermission. 

Edith joined the group of her friends. 

Edith, why do you always take the trouble of 
doing other people’s work as well as your own? Any 


12 


HIS CHOICE. 


one who is willing to be continually doing that will 
soon find her hands full/^ said Nora, idly. 

I did not do her work for her— that would not 
have been fair. I only explained the principle, so 
that she might do it for herself ; and really it is no 
trouble to explain what one really understands one’s 
self,” said Edith, as she took the seat opposite. 

You wouldn’t do it; would you, Nora Eead?” 
asked Clayton Garmon, joining in the conversation for 
the first time. You and Edith don’t court trouble 
in the same way.” 

Indeed we don’t,” assented Nora, shaking her 
pretty head and laughing, as if Clayton’s words were 
really quite witty. Nora’s was a pretty face when 
she laughed. The dimples played, and the color 
came and went rapidly over her pure, fair skin. 
Clayton rather enjoyed looking at her. 

You and I will shake hands on that,” he rejoined. 

I find one person about as much as I possibly can 
take care of, with any sort of justice.” 

Your idea of justice may differ from some other 
persons,” remarked Paul Elverton, seriously, though 
not at all unkindly. 


HIS CHOICE. 


13 


Clayton did not like Paul Elverton. He flushed at 
his remark ; but before he could reply, Rob Sender ling 
said, with a little unpleasant intonation in his voice : 

“ You wouldn’t take care of that one, if you could 
help it, would you ? ” 

Not if I could And anybody able and willing to 
do it for me,” replied Clayton, scarcely knowing in 
what light to take the question. 

“I’ve always thought there was a good deal of 
wisdom in the advice John Alden gave to Captain 
Standish, when the latter wanted to send Hhe strip- 
ling student’ to carry his message of love to the 
Puritan maiden Priscilla,” said Edith, thoughtfully. 

“What was that? I don’t remember,” asked 
Clayton. 

“ ‘ If you wish a thing to be well done, you must 
do it yourself — ^you must not leave it to others,”’ 
replied Edith. 

“ Trust me for doing it myself in matters of that 
sort,” replied the young man, in a tone that showed 
how fully satisfied he was with himself. 

A moment after the bell rang for order, and the 
group dispersed to their seats. 


CHAPTER IL 


A VERY ORDINARY PERSON. 

TT was a principle in Edith Hendry’s life to do 
her best ” in whatever she undertook. She and 
Reba Ash wood were born on the same day, the 14th 
of May. It was a custom in both families to observe 
birthdays by especial dinners and pleasant companies 
and thoughtful presents. 

The day they were both fifteen years old, nearly 
two years before the April day on which we have first 
met them, each one received a present from her 
mother. 

Edith’s was a Teacher’s Bible, just what she wanted. 
Reba’s was a very handsome autograph album, bound 
in rich plush, and containing upon many of its pages 
a number of perfect little gems of art. This, too, was 
just what Reba had been wishing for. 

Edith’s mother had written her name on the fly leaf 
of her Bible, and below it a single sentence : 

Neglect not the gift that is in theeJ^ • 

14 


HIS CHOICE. 


15 


Reba’s mother had written in her album the following 
verses : 

Wake, thou that sleepest in enchanted bowers, 

Lest these lost years should haunt thee in the night 
When Death is waiting for thy numbered hours 
To take their swift and everlasting flight. 

Wake ere the earth-born charm unnerve thee quite. 

And be thy thought to work divine addressed : 

Do something — do it soon — with all thy might. 

An angel’s wing would droop if long at rest. 

And God himself, inactive, were no longer blest. 

Go, make thyself of worth, and thus enlist 
The smiles of all the good, the dear to fame. 

’Tis infamy to die and not be missed. 

Or let all soon forget that thou didst e’er exist. 

Rouse to some work of high and holy love. 

And thou an angel’s happiness shalt know — 

Shalt bless the earth ; while in the world above 
The good begun by thee shall onward flow 
In many a branching stream, and wider grow. 

The seed that in these few and fleeting hours 
Thy hands, unsparing and unwearied sow. 

Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers. 

And yield thee fruits divine in heaven’s immortal bowers.” 

In the solitude of their own rooms that night these 
two girls looked again at their presents, and pondered 
thoughtfully over the words that were written there. 
From her earliest childhood Edith had been trained 


16 


HIS CHOICE. 


by wise encouragement and thoughtful, gentle reproof, 
to do her best in all things. A few months before 
this birthday a new motive had come into her heart 
and life. The love of God in its constraining power 
now influenced all her actions. That which before 
was an outgrowth of careful and judicious training 
was now the result of the promptings of a heart at 
one with God, and striving to become more and more 
like her Master. 

It was at such a time as this, when all these new- 
born purposes were forming and taking root in her 
young nature, that the new Bible with its command 
written on the fly leaf was given to her. 

She read it again most carefully. 

‘^The gift?” she queried. ^^What gift? Does 
mother think I have a gift that ought not to be neg- 
lected? Who wrote this flrst, and to whom was it 
written ? Let me see.” And she turned to the con- 
cordance at the back of her Bible. (1 Tim. 4 ; 14.) 
She found the place, and read it with her brow puck- 
ered with a thoughtful frown. 

But Timothy had a special gift, and for a special 
purpose,” she mused after she had read again the 


HIS CHOICE. 


17 


passage and its references. “How can this be ap- 
plicable to me? I wonder if I have any gift? I 
can’t preach as Timothy did. I can’t write. I am 
not an elocutionist ; I can’t sing or paint, or even do 
fancy work. Reba Ashwood can do those sorts of 
things, but I cannot. I wonder what gift mother 
was thinking of when she wrote this, for I am very 
certain that I have no gift.” 

Just then Edith cast her eye a line or two further 
up, and read : 

“Let no man despise thy youth, but be thou an 
example of the believers in word, in conversation, in 
charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.” 

This was something that seemed a great deal more 
applicable to herself than the other. She was young, 
just fifteen to-day — ^and she had recently made a pro- 
fession of faith. Why had not her mother written 
that, instead of the other verse ? 

She resolved to ask. Her mother’s room was just 
across the hall ; her father had gone to attend a meet- 
ing of the trustees of the church, and though it was 
growing rather late, she had not yet heard him 
return. 

B 


18 


HIS CHOICE. 


She threw a light shawl around her shoulders, and 
ran across to her mother’s room. 

She had the Bible with her, and her forefinger still 
marked the fourth chapter of Paul’s first letter to the 
young disciple, Timothy. 

Mamma, what gift have I ? And why wouldn’t 
the twelfth verse have been more appropriate for me 
than the fourteenth?” she asked, when she had drawn 
a stool to her side, and had opened the Bible upon 
her mother’s knee. 

My first intention was to put the twelfth verse,” 
said her mother, but, upon consideration, I changed 
my mind, and wrote the other. So you don’t like it ? 
I am sorry.” 

I didn’t mean that, mamma — you know I didn’t 
mean that ! But I don’t see that I have any gift to 
neglect ; and so I thought the other would be more 
appropriate,” she said. 

“ Perhaps not exactly the same gift that Paul 
referred to here in Timothy; but does that prove 
that you have none at all?” asked her mother, 
smiling, as she stroked back the abundance of brown 
hair, now loosed from its usual orderly confinement. 


HIS CHOICE. 


19 


“ But, mamma, you know I can’t preach, or write, 
or paint, or sing, or anything of that kind. I am a 
very ordinary sort of person, and it can’t make a very 
great deal of difference to the world what I do, or 
leave undone.” 

She said the last with a sorry little smile — for no 
one enjoys being ^^a very ordinary sort of a person” 
— ^and sorrowfully meant just exactly what she had 
said. And she wondered if Grod could have in his 
kingdom any place for her, in which she could be of 
real and actual service, without these especial endow- 
ments that she had been looking upon as God’s 
gifts. 

Mrs. Hendry looked kindly down into the serious 
face. suppose if everybody preached and wrote 

and painted and sang, the preacher and writer and 
painter and singer would then become the ‘very 
ordinary ’ people — don’t you ? ” she asked. 

Edith could not help laughing a little at that, and 
exclaimed : “ I wonder who would listen and read, 
and admire, then ? ” 

“ Then, you see, God did about the right thing in 
distributing those kinds of gifts as he has,” replied 


20 


HIS CHOICE. 


Mrs. Hendry. But, Edith, are you sure there are 
no others 

“I don’t know, mamma — I never thought about 
it. Are there ? ” 

Why are you here, my daughter ? Has God notli- 
ing to do with that ? ” 

Oh, mamma ! ” 

Edith sat perfectly still for several moments, taking 
in long, deep breaths, and slowly letting them go again, 
while the fact that had never come to her with such 
force as at this moment was growing more and more 
intense — that her very life was a gift from God. 

Yes, ma’am, I was wrong, I see,” she presently 
said. 

“ Then there is another ^ gift,’ an infinitely higher 
one, that I trust has been given to you also. Can you 
think what that is, Edith ? ” 

‘ The gift of God is eternal life,’ ” quoted the girl, 
after a moment’s pause. Is that what you mean, 
mamma?” 

‘^Yes, dear. With these two gifts — physical life 
and life eternal — can you again say that you have 
nothing to neglect? But I’ll tell you, Edith, just 


HIS CHOICE. 


21 


why I put this verse instead of the one which you 
think would have been more appropriate. You will 
notice that the former is an exhortation to do cer- 
tain things — to lead such a life in word and act, in 
charity, in faith, in purity, that it may be an example 
to other believers. A most worthy purpose it is, and 
one that I hope you will make your own. But this 
that I have chosen is on the negative side of the ques- 
tion, a warning not to do something — not to neglect 
God’s gift. The sins of omission are less generally 
taken into account in our thoughts of life than sins of 
commission. We think about, and, if we are faithful, 
we do the things we are commanded to do, and then 
perhaps feel that we have performed, justly and hon- 
estly, our whole duty ; but we are not so apt to look 
upon the other side and remember the things we 
neglect, or are disinclined to do. It was for sins of 
omission that Jesus reproved those Pharisees who 
were so particular to carry out the very letter of the 
law, and give tithes of all they possessed, even to the 
most trifling herbs, but who passed over, unheeding, 
judgment and justice and the love of God. ‘These 
things,’ he said, ‘ ought ye to have done, and not left 


22 


HIS CHOICE. 


the other uudone.’ And do you remember, my dar- 
ling, in Chrisfs description of the judgment, those 
who are sent away from the presence of the King 
are not thus banished because of any outcrying evil 
they have done, but for what they have not done. 
Read it, Edith, here in the twenty-fifth chapter of 
Matthew.’^ 

Mrs. Hendry turned the leaves, and Edith leaned 
tlioughtfully over the volume and read the words her 
mother indicated. 

^ Then s-hall he say unto them on his left hand. 
Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, pre- 
pared for the devil and his angels : For I was a hun- 
gered, and ye gave me no meat : I was thirsty, and ye 
gave me no drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me 
not in : naked, and ye clothed me not : sick, and in 

prison, and ye visited me not Verily I say 

unto you. Inasmuch as ye did it not unto one of the 
least of these, ye did it not to me. And these shall 
go away into everlasting punishment ; but the right- 
eous into life eternal.’ I never thought of any such 
especial importance being attached to the things that 
we do not do, so long as the things that we did 


HIS CHOICE. 


23 


were not bad,” she said, after she had finished the 
reading. 

^‘Your thought is the common -one. How often, 
when a person has wandered from truth and duty, and 
done something wrong, we find the world crying out 
over his downfall ; yet he may have lived for years 
constantly failing in other duties. In God^s sight the 
absence of right is as great a sin as the presence of 
wrong ; yet, if that same world makes any comment 
on such failure, it is only to say that ‘ Humanity is 
weak, and we cannot expect perfection in any one.’ 
It is not because I see any special disposition in you, 
my dear, to neglect duty that I call your attention to 
these things. It is because I think the almost uni- 
versal failing leans to the side of neglect, rather than 
to positive wrong-doing.” 

I will try to remember, mamma,” said Edith, as 
she looked back at the written text. 

She kissed her mother, took up her Bible, and re- 
turned to her room. 

Well,” she said, half aloud, ^Gf the gift that I 
have is my life, and I am not to neglect it, I must 
make the best of it, the best of all of it, all the time.” 


24 


HIS CHOICE. 


Her prayer that night was in accordance with these 
new thoughts, and this was the secret of her doing 
her best in all that she undertook. She. had been 
doing it now from principle for two years. In school 
and out of school it had been the same. She had 
never written a composition that was not the best com- 
position she could write at that time. She had never 
taken up a new rule in arithmetic until she fully un- 
derstood the one she was leaving — there had been 
faithful, conscientious work in it all. 

She looked on the wonderful gifts of life and life 
eternal as priceless gifts, for which she must render 
an account, and which she must in no wise neglect. 


CHAPTER III. 

TWO NOT VERY ORDINARY ” PERSONS. 

X^EBA ASH WOOD carried her beautiful album to 
her room that night. Like her friend Edith, 
she read again and again the words that were traced 
there. 

They were high and noble sentiments ; but Reba 
Ash wood read them with an earthward vision. She 
did not, could not, see the highest and noblest in 
them. 

She knew, experimentally, nothing whatever of the 
lofty and pure motive which now actuated Edith 
Hendry. 

Her home training had been different from Edith’s. 
Her parents were neither of them Christians. They 
were educated, and refined, and moved in excellent 
society. Of course, they attended church, and, 
when the children were younger, had sent them to 
Sunday-school; and they gave to nearly all the 

humane and benevolent causes that were brought to 

25 


26 


HIS CHOICE. 


their notice. They were invariably spoken of as 
being very fine people ; but the atmosphere of religion 
was not in Keba’s home. 

Instead, the ruling thought there referred to worldly 
gain and fame, to worldly learning and refinement^ 
and the worldly precedence to be gained thereby. 

Mrs. Ashwood, perhaps, could hardly have told 
what prompted her to write this particular selection. 
She thought it beautiful ; but she, as well as Reba, 
failed to gain the high inspiration that a Christian 
would have found in them. She, too, read with an 
earthward vision. 

This did not prevent Reba’s impulsive nature being 
stirred as she read them again ; and she said, with 
determination : 

I will indeed do something. The years even of 
my early life shall not be lost years. I will make 
myself of worth in the world ; and whea I leave it, 
I shall be missed. People shall remember me as a 
blessing. The good shall smile upon me. Yes, and 
fame shall be mine ! I will not disappoint you, my 
mother ! 

So declared Reba Ashwood ; and she jneant what 


HIS CHOICE. 


27 


she said. Just how she was going to accomplish all 
this, she did not stop to inquire ; nor did she even ask 
what she was going to do in the world. Still, she 
was perfectly sure she was going to do something ! 

She went to bed that night with her head full of the 
wonderful possibilities — nay, almost certainties, as they 
already appeared to her — of the future. What a glo- 
rious thing it was to live, when living was going to 
make the whole world in some way the gainer by this 
life, and at the same time one could lift oneself to the 
very pinnacle of fame ! The smiles of the good and 
the blessings of earth should be hers ; and amaranthine 
flowers should deck the grave of so blessed a memory ! 
Yes, she would do something.” 

In accordance with that night’s resolve, Eeba Ash- 
wood had been doing something — doing it with all 
her might — ever since. , 

For the last six months she had given herself unre- 
servedly to music. She arose early, and retired late, 
in order to practice. The piano was always in requi- 
sition, and she executed all sorts of outlandish vocal 
gymnastics, in season and out of season, until every 
body in the house wished — nay more, asked, and fairly 


28 


HIS CHOICE. 


begged her to desist. Mrs. Ash wood never could have 
a quiet afternoon’s nap if Reba were in the house ; 
and Mr. Ashwood declared he would burn the piano, 
if his night’s rest were not left undisturbed. 

She felt that her proficiency, as well as her steady 
perseverance and her high aim, were undervalued. 
Still, she looked upon this as a part of the necessary 
persecution which must attend the noblest and best 
deeds of all lofty souls ; and she patiently pursued 
her way, cheered by the thought that in the future, 
though not now, they would appreciate both her and 
her talent. She knew she had heard about a prophet 
not having honor in his own country ; and she looked 
forward to the time when the world should pay its 
tribute of honor to her as the great musician who had 
won the hearts of the people. She would be very 
gracious to these same home-folks, who in the days of 
her struggle had failed to appreciate her, or to under- 
stand her soul’s longing after something beyond this 
little sphere which constituted their world, but could 
not satisfy her. 

The fact that her father allowed her to take lessons 
of whom she chose, and unquestioningly paid all her 


HIS CHOICE. 


29 


music bills, did not seem to her at present a matter 
demanding especial consideration or gratitude. If she 
thought of it at all, it was with the certainty that she 
should more than repay him in the future by the 
honor that should come to him as the father of so 
accomplished a singer as she undoubtedly would be 
some day. 

Before this there had been a period when painting 
occupied her time and thoughts, and then one of 
poetry writing — at least she called it poetry — but the 
greater part of what she wrote was mere trash. 

Now, however, she had given up the idea of ever 
becoming a famous poetess, or a world-renowned 
painter ; and all the zeal that had hitherto been given 
to these pursuits was concentrated upon music. 

Recently the honors of the approaching Examina- 
tion and Commencement had somewhat diverted her 
mind even from music. Of course, it would not do 
to live altogether in the future, when there were 
honors near at hand to be reaped. She had not the 
slightest doubt about that future; she felt that her 
whole soul uprose to the call of music as the great 
^‘something’’ that she was to do in the world. For 


30 


HIS CHOICE. 


the present, however, she would relax her efforts in 
that direction long enough to compete for this Weldon 
Prize. 

So the something that Reba Ashwood was doing 
just at present, and into which she was putting all 
her might and thought and purpose — the something 
in which she was determined she would be successful 
— was to hike the first prize for composition at the 
Commencement, and to graduate with particular 
honor. 

It was rather trying to have Edith Hendry say, in 
that quiet, determined way of hers, that she should 
^^do her best”; for all the school knew that Edith 
Hendry’s best was no mean attempt. Still, Reba 
Ashwood knew that she was a more brilliant writer 
than her friend. Edith gave more conscientious care 
to her work; but there was a brightness and sparkle 
that seemed to come natural to Reba. Perhaps Edith 
was more accurate in her statements, but beautiful and 
well-rounded sentences came more easily to Reba. 
To have compared their compositions for the past two 
years though, a vast improvement would have been 
found in Edith’s from the beginning, while Reba’s 


HIS CHOICE. 


31 


were but little better now than then. Depending 
upon the advantage which she was conscious of pos- 
sessing, Reba felt very little anxiety concerning the 
final issue. 

Nora Read had already voluntarily made over her 
right to any of the prizes, and it was as well. Nora 
had spoken truly when she had declared that 
‘trouble’’ of any sort was irksome to her. 

She was a pretty little creature, this Nora Read — 
small and dainty of figure, graceful, willowy, and 
light in all her movements. Her features were fair 
and delicately chiseled — so delicately, in fact, that had 
it not been for the conch-shell pink which tinged 
cheek and ear, and deepened into cherry-red at the 
lips, she would have had the appearance of ill-health. 
Her eyes were large and blue, and her face was sur- 
rounded and crowned by an abundance of wavy 
yellow hair, which the sunlight turned into a coronet 
of shining gold. 

Nora Read knew just how pretty she was. Her 
glass told her that whenever she looked in it, and 
that was very often. She had also heard it said by 
others, ever since she could remember. 


32 


HIS CHOICE. 


Perhaps she depended upon this beauty to carry 
her through life; at least she was much indisposed to 
make any sort of effort to improve herself. How she 
had managed to reach the senior year of the academy 
was almost a marvel to herself, and certainly it was to 
many who knew her. Still, somehow, she was there; 
and this year she would graduate, and leave the tire- 
some school days behind her forever. She was 
heartily glad of this, and she promised to give herself 
no more trouble than was necessary to reach that 
happy point in her existence. 

So, although by the rules of the school, the entire 
class must submit an essay for competition for the 
Weldon Prize, she left the writing of hers to the 
very last moment, while she indulged her ease-loving 
nature in the luxury of idleness. Peba Ashwood had 
written, corrected, re-written, and discarded a dozen 
essays, and Edith Hendry had thought and prayed 
much, and covered several sheets with carefully- 
written and carefully-corrected sentences, before Nora 
Head had even set pen to paper. 

Nora, in her lady-like, idle fashion, often laughed 
at her two friends, for their very different views of 


HIS CHOICE. 


33 


life. She “ did not see the use of bothering.” They 
chided her sometimes, but she laughed at their 
reproofs ; and, after all, she was so sweet and pretty 
and good-natured, that they could not do otherwise 
than love her, even while they saw her error, and 
from their different standpoints grieved over her 
failures. 

But, after all, it did not seem so much like a 
failure in her unruffled life. She did not want a 
prize; she did not want fame. She did not care 
about anything in the world that she did not have — 
at least, she was not conscious of any want. 


C 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE COMMENCEMENT AND PAUL ELVERTON. 

N ot one of those boys or girls will ever forget 
the day of their graduation from the Hallberg 
Academy. Days of infinitely greater importance may 
come to them. Nevertheless, that beautiful June day 
will ever hold its distinctive place in each of their 
memories. 

There were seventeen in the class this year. We 
must now be introduced to one who joined but slightly 
in the conversation that has been already recorded. 
Paul Elverton was at least six years older than the 
average of the class. Therefore, . some of the others 
looked upon him as especially backward. This was, 
however, far from the truth. His early school advan- 
tages had been very slight, and it was only by per- 
sistent and determined efforts that he had been able to 
enter the Academy. Pecuniary disabilities and entire 
lack of sympathy upon the part of those by whom he 

was surrounded, had only proved a spur to his deter- 
84 


HIS CHOICE. 


35 


mination, and had at length been overcome by him. 
Thus, at the age at which most boys were ready to 
leave school, he was ready to enter it. 

Like Paul, the apostle of old, Paul Elverton was 
absorbed in this one thing I do.” This nineteenth 
century Paul had become a disciple of Christ while 
still but a young lad, and soon after he had attended 
a course of lectures on The Cradle of the Race,” 
delivered by a medical missionary who had returned 
to this country from Armenia. This missionary told, 
in graphic terms, of the work to be done among the 
perishing multitudes of that far-off land. He spoke 
of their pitiable destitution of anything like medical 
skill, and said that as Christ, while ministering to the 
wants of the body often opened the way for the richest 
spiritual blessings, so the medical missionary, through 
his knowledge of the healing art, was often able to 
reach the souls of many who would not otherwise be 
accessible to his influence. He told how the medi- 
cine man ” was welcomed where the missionary could 
not gain admittance, if his errand were only to tell 
the story of the cross. 

The desire seized Paul Elverton to bear the tidings 


36 


HIS CHOICE. 


of Christ’s salvation to his fellow-men across the sea, 
and to unite with this the work of relief and healing 
to the suffering. But what could he, a poor, unlettered 
boy, do? 

Truly, the case seemed hopeless then ; but from that 
moment he never once lost sight of this purpose. 
Everything was made subservient to it; everything 
was done with a view to this in the future ; and to-day 
he had so far advanced in his purpose as to be able to 
take his place — ^and it was no mean place, as far as 
scholarship was concerned — among the graduating 
class of the Hallberg Academy. 

Not that he had now by any means fully attained 
his object. The three years of the medical course 
were yet before him ; and after that there were theo- 
logical studies to pursue ; but he felt that what, with 
God’s help, he had already done, was an earnest of 
what, with a continuation of the divine favor, he 
might yet accomplish. 

But at twenty-five years of age, and ready to 
graduate, he was still, so far as pecuniary means were 
concerned, about as destitute as when he was a boy. 

He was of medium height, slender of build, but 


HIS CHOICE. 


37 


with a quiet determination upon his face, and older 
than any of the others. 

He knew that the greater part of the graduating 
class would wear black suits ; but, before the important 
day dawned, he had fully made up his mind that he 
was not going to care in the least that his clothes were 
only a gray business suit. Still, it was somewhat of 
an ordeal for him. 

Nora smiled superciliously, and Keba tossed her 
head as Paul came up on the platform, and the latter 
laid her hand on Edith Hendry^s arm, and called her 
attention to him, whispering : 

Doesn’t he look strange among all those others ? ” 

At this moment Paul was looking over toward the 
girls, trying to convince himself that he felt perfectly 
comfortable in his gray suit. What he saw was that 
Nora laughed at him, and Keba tossed her head in an 
indefinite, and, to his sensitiveness, a very unpleasant 
way ; but he caught Edith’s steady eyes upon him. 
She was looking across to the group with a thoughtful 
brow. She smiled and nodded a pleasant Good- 
morning” to Paul. He returned the salutation — the 
first really polite -and cordial one that had come to 


38 


HIS CHOICE. 


him from any member of his class that morning — and 
somehow he drew his breath more easily after that. 

Edith Hendry little thought that by a simple act of 
courtesy she had helped a brother to bear his burden 
that morning. 

It was now time for the exercises to commence, and 
one after another the essays were read, or orations de- 
livered. One of the boys had the Salutatory ; Edith 
Hendry was Valedictorian, and Eeba Ash wood His- 
torian of the class, while each one of the others had 
a part to perform. 

After this the entire seventeen stood in a semicircle 
' upon the enlarged platform, before the Faculty of the 
Academy, to receive their diplomas. 

During the delivery of his own oration, Paul Elver- 
ton had caught another frank, encouraging look from 
Edith Hendry’s eyes, and he knew that he spoke to 
at least one who appreciated him. 

The diplomas were given, and then came the an- 
nouncement of the award of prizes. 

A very dignified-looking committee had had this 
matter in charge. Of course, everybody, including 
everybody’s friends, was intensely interested now. 


HIS CHOICE. 


39 


Tlie Foster Prize for Mathematics was announced 
fii’st. The chairman of the dignified committee rose 
and announced that the Foster Prize, after due ex- 
amination and consideration, had been awarded to 
Mr. Paul Elverton.” 

Paul Elverton was probably the only one among 
that entire seventeen who had not some near and dear 
friend in the audience. So, instead of somebody rap- 
turously exclaiming : Oh, it is our Paul ! ’’ they only 
said, as he went forward to take the envelope which, 
everybody knew, contained thirty dollars in gold : 

Why, it is that young man in gray ; while Nora 
Kead whispered to Edith Hendry ; I never thought 
of his taking a prize — did you ? ” 

Edith had been one of three girls who had tried for 
the Mathematical Prize; but, although her own failure 
was thus announced, she spoke her congratulation to 
the successful one as heartily as a smile could speak 
across the platform. The young man in gray caught 
her glance as^ he turned after taking the prize from the 
committeeman’s hand; but he did not know then 
what he learned afterward, that she had tried for it, 
and failed. 


40 


HIS CHOICE. 


All thoughts were now turned to the prizes for 
Composition. There were three of these, so the an- 
nouncement of the first, and even of the second, would 
not put hope quite away from those who remained. 
The first name on the little list that the chairman held 
was read out, Miss Edith Hendry.'^ 

There was a murmur of approval. Everybody who 
knew Edith expected her to take at least one of these 
prizes, though, it must be confessed, Eeba Ashwood 
looked somewhat disappointed : she had felt sure of 
this first prize herself. 

But what name was that he was reading now ? 

The second best composition had been written by 
“ Miss Beba Ashwood.” 

Beba could afford to smile now, and she drew her 
breath freely again. After all, it was not so bad to 
take the second prize, when the first had been awarded 
to such a person as Edith Hendry. The third went 
to the young man who was doubtful whether it was 
worth while to bait for such small fry.” However, 
he took it now, with a little flush of satisfaction that 
he had fairly earned it. After that several other names 
were read as deserving of honorable mention.” 


HIS CHOICE. 


41 


Prayer was then offered by one of the pastors of 
Hallberg. After the prayer the exercises were over, 
and the graduates were free to receive the congratula- 
tions of their friends. 

Paul Elverton escaped from the happy company at 
his earliest opportunity. It had been a trying day to 
him ; but by his bedside that night he thanked God 
for his sustaining grace, and for at least one ray of 
sunlight that had gleamed upon him all through the 
day. 


CHAPTEE Y. 


THEEE GIRLS TALKING OVER THE FUTURE. 

^ ^ "IT TELL, girls, now that schooldays are over, 
** and we are prepared to enter upon life, 
what are you going to do ? ” 

Commencement Day had been numbered among the 
things that were for the space of nearly two weeks. 
The three girls were walking together. Eeba walked 
in the centre — she generally did. She was, by several 
inches, taller than Edith, and Edith was taller than 
Nora. People who passed often remarked : What a 
fine-looking girl ! Eeba knew perfectly well that 
she was fine looking. She knew that her brown eyes 
were bright and fringed with dark lashes, while the 
brows above them were well defined and quite as 
heavy as could be becoming a girl’s face. Her hair 
was dark and very abundant. It was always 
arranged in some becoming fashion, and was in gen- 
eral taken as a model for the other girls in school to 

follow. 

42 


ms CHOICE. 


43 


In matters of dress Reba was very particular, join- 
ing neatness with extreme style in a manner not often 
seen. Style was a great deal to Reba Ashwood. If 
Madam Fashion said, ^^Wear large hats,’^ Reba. wore 
the largest hat that could be purchased. If the 
demand was for small bonnets, Reba’s was scarcely 
more than a tiny head-dress. 

She wore a pretty, light silk, and a large, black 
straw hat, jauntily turned up at one side — a hat in 
which many a girl would have looked bold, but 
which set off Reba’s bright face most becomingly. 

Edith walked on her right. There was nothing 
noticeable in Edith’s appearance. She was very neat 
and lady-like in manner ; her eyes were gray and her 
hair brown, her figure slight, and her dress very 
quiet. Nobody ever thought of calling her pretty. 
But those who knew het well found rest in her quiet 
smile, and liked to look into her clear, steady eyes for 
sympathy and love. 

It was Reba who asked the question with which 
this chapter opens. She usually began such discus- 
sions, and both her listeners were ready with a reply. 
Nora Read shook out the folds of her pale-blue 


44 


HIS CHOICE. 


cashmere dress, with its abundant trimming of blue 
ribbons and white lace; turned her cuff around so 
that the Rhine stone in her sleeve-button would catch 
the sunlight ; settled her gold bracelet upon her dainty 
wrist, and answered, complacently : 

I suppose I shall follow the destiny which seems 
to be marked out for all our sex — shall marry, and 
settle down to an establishment of my own. I mean 
to have a lovely house, with well-trained servants and 
everything easy. When you get tired of the empty 
applause of the world, Reba, come and see me, and 
rest a while.” 

Edith’s answer was very different, in substance and 
in tone : 

“ I mean to try to do the best I can wherever God 
puts me.” 

Reba had very little belief in the particular lead- 
ings of Providence, and she had no answer to make 
to this. Indeed, she was herself already full of an 
answer to the question she had proposed, and she 
scarcely waited for Edith’s sentence to be finished 
when she turned to the little, laughing creature by her 
side, and remarked, with a strong emphasis ; 


HIS CHOICE. 


45 


Married, indeed ! That seems to be the sole 
thought of some girls. I promise you I shall not 
marry. I tell you, girls, I think that a woman shuts 
herself away from her highest possibility of good the 
day she resigns her liberty and becomes a slave to any 
man ! 

“A slave! Who said anything about being a 
slave? I assure you there is no slavery in my 
plans,’^ said Nora, somewhat indignantly. 

You spoke of being a wife, and there is little dif- 
ference,” Eeba replied, with the assurance which 
ignorance often assumes. 

Reba Ashwood, I cannot imagine where you get 
your ideas of marriage. Not from personal observa- 
tion, surely. Your mother is not a slave, and mine is 
not; but they are both of them happy and useful 
wives,” said Nora. 

“Of course. I did not refer to either of them,” 
exclaimed Reba, hastily retreating from her former 
position. “ But I feel that my sphere is to be a wider 
one. The longings of my soul never could be satis- 
fied in so narrow a circle ; and, as I said, I feel that a 
woman of genius, of high and lofty aims, shuts her- 


46 


HIS CHOICE. 


self away from the highest possibilities of good the 
day she marries.’^ She nodded her head and com- 
pressed her lips, in a way peculiar to herself, as she 
delivered tliis opinion. 

^‘Keba,^^ said Edith, quietly, “what a pity you 
were not in the Garden of Eden when Adam and 
Eve were first created ! 

“Well, what now?’^ she asked. 

“Why, for the highest possible good of woman- 
hood in all future ages. You might, you know, have 
advised against the marriage of Eve to Adam,” 
answered Edith, very seriously. 

“ Edith Hendry, I don’t profess to be a Christian ; 
but I am really shocked at your want of reverence,” 
said Eeba, severely. 

“ But you are not shocked in the least at your own, 
I suppose ? ” responded Edith. 

“My own? I have not been irreverent. What 
did I say that was irreverent ? ” 

“ I only put your thought into plainer language. 
God created mankind, and put him here with every- 
thing to make him happy and useful. He instituted 
marriage. Presumably he knew what he was doing, 


HIS CHOICE. 


47 


and did it for the best. But in your opinion he made 
a mistake. A woman’s highest good is not attained 
by the plan he proposes. It is better for her not to 
marry/’ replied Edith, in a quiet tone. 

Edith Hendry, you do have the most ridiculous 
way of putting things,” said Reba, rather uncomfort- 
ably — ^the more so, perhaps, because the little friend 
on the other side thoroughly enjoyed the situation, 
and was laughing heartily at her expense. 

“ Then you acknowledge that it is only a different 
^putting’ of the same thing?” Edith asked. 

I am not sure that I do. But, really, I did not 
know you were so deeply interested in this subject. 
You seem to have given it considerable study, and 
speak as if it were a personal matter. AYhen do you 
expect to send out your invitations, and who is the 
fortunate suitor for your favor ? ” asked Reba, resort- 
ing to ridicule in order to change the subject. 

You know better than that, Reba,” replied Edith, 
with quiet reproof. I do not know that the invita- 
tions will ever be sent out. I just told you that I 
meant to do the best I could wherever God places me. 
I do not know yet where that will be. If it is by 


48 


HIS CHOICE. 


the side of some noble worker for the Lord, I will 
try to be his helper, his inspiration to yet nobler and 
higher attainments. If it is alone, I will try, with 
God’s help, to do the duty he gives me alone.” 

The three girls walked a little distance in silence. 
Then Eeba, not quite willing to give up her position 
without a struggle, asked, in an argumentative tone ; 

^^Why, then, are so many marriages unhappy? and 
why do so many prove — for you must admit this, 
Edith — a hindrance to the noblest work? I have 
seen it over and again, and so have you.” 

It would be very foolish to attempt to prove that 
the ordinance which God instituted for the best good 
of mankind has been kept as he gave it through all 
these ages,” replied Edith. If you had said at first 
what you say now — ^that in many cases the result of 
marriage is not all that could be desired, I should not 
have answered as I did. But indeed, Reba, you have 
a habit of making your assertions far too sweeping.” 

And you have a habit of taking my words, and 
looking at them on all sides, as if life or death de- 
pended upon them,” replied Reba, with an odd mix- 
ture of impatience and raillery. 


HIS CHOICE. 


49 


Life does sometimes depend on words. If upon 
our lips they lose their proper significance, we have 
done the world a deep injury and ourselves a lasting 
harm/^ replied Edith. She spoke seriously, though 
not with the air of one who would dictate, or harshly 
reprove. 

I declare, you make me feel as if I had been to 
a funeral,’’ said Nora, who did not like the conversa- 
tion to take this turn. Who would imagine that 
the discussion started from marriage? But come^ 
Reba, now that you know what both of us expect to 
do, tell us of your plans:” 

That was exactly what Reba wanted to do ; and 
thus good feeling was restored at once. Her plans 
had been somewhat modified, however, during the 
past few weeks. 

I have been thinking, since I became so interested 
in writing my Commencement Essay, and the one for 
the Weldon Prize, and particularly since the former 
was so favorably noticed in the papers, and the latter 
was one of the successful ones in the contest, that per- 
haps I ought not to devote so much time to music. 

Of course, I do not mean to give it up, and I still 
D 


50 


HIS CHOICE. 


expect some day to turn it to account ; but I feel there 
may be other things which demand a part of my 
time and attention. The pen, you know, my friends,” 
— they had reached the gate before Kebabs home now, 
and she stepped forward from between the two girls, 
and, turning, struck an attitude before them — “is 
mightier than the sword, and who knows what a con- 
queror I may yet be with that weapon? However, the 
human voice is yet mightier than the pen; and I 
expect, with my voice, to achieve my greatest victory. 
Will you come in, girls? ” 

“ Thank you, no,” replied Edith. “ Mother has 
some work that I can help in. It seems so odd to be 
doing any other than school work. So long as that 
lasted, mother never expected anything from me ; but 
now it is time to take up something else.” 

“ And I expect a caller this evening. I must go 
home and rest awhile before it is time to dress to 
receive him,” said Nora, blushing most becomingly, 
and laughing gayly. 

And the three girls who looked into the future with 
such different purposes parted for the present. 


CHAPTEK yi. 


PLANS Am> AIMS OF THREE YOUNG MEN. 

T the same time, three young men were discussing 



almost the same theme from their different stand 


point. 


They were not such close friends as the girls, and 
thus the dispositions and plans of each were not 
already so familiar to the others. 

The three were Paul Elverton, Rob Senderling, 
and Clayton Garmon. Rob and Clayton were neither 
of them in the habit of talking very much with Paul. 
To-day, however, they overtook their classmate, who, 
somehow, had grown somewhat more important — at 
least, in Rob’s estimation — since he had taken that 
prize for mathematics; he had tried for it himself, 
and thus understood something of the faithful work it 
represented. 

Paul was walking very leisurely when the others 
came up to him. 

^^Have you your plans laid for the future?” Rob. 


61 


62 


HIS CHOICE. 


asked, after the usual greetings of the day had been 
exchanged. 

They are just the same as before,” replied Paul, 
unmindful of the fact that the enterprise of good 
which he had— 

“ Contemplated till it had possessed his mind, 

Become his study, pastime, rest and food. 

And kindled in his heart a flame refined. 

With thoughts all fixed and feelings purely kind, ’ ’ 

was not known to them. 

Then you have already settled upon a course in 
life ? ” queried Kob. 

Yes ; oh, yes ! Since before I entered the Acad- 
emy. Indeed, I am not sure that otherwise I should 
have taken the course, though I do not undervalue 
its worth for any sphere in life. I am going to study 
medicine now, as soon as the Lord opens the way for 
me,” replied Paul. 

Medicine, eh?” asked Clayton, with quizzical 
surprise. Well, now, I never thought of you as a 
professional man. ^Paul Elverton, Medical Doctor.^ 
That does not sound so bad, does it ? Not the least 
doubt, Rob, but we shall have the opportunity of 


HIS CHOICE. 


53 


being proud of our classmate yet. Where do you 
expect to hang out your shingle, doctor ? ” 

Wherever the Lord needs me most. Very prob- 
ably in Armenia,’^ Paul replied simply. 

^^In Armenia? asked the two, in surprised unison. 

Why, man, what on earth do you mean ? con- 
tinued Rob. 

“ Just what I say. I have been thinking of it so 
long myself that it did not occur to me that it would 
surprise any one else. But it is all the Lord’s world, 
you know.” 

But Armenia ! Why do you want to bury your- 
self- away otf there where nobody will ever hear of 
you again ? Why not settle here, or in the city near 
by, where you’ll have a chance of rising ? Though I 
believe with your determination and honest work, you 
will rise wherever you are put,” added Bob, with 
cordial praise. 

had not thought of studying medicine that I 
might become famous,” replied Paul. In going to 
Armenia I can let some of those poor, perishing ones 
hear of the Lord Jesus.” 

So that is your trim, is it ? ” said Clayton Car- 


54 


HIS CHOICE. 


mon, giving a long, low disagreeable whistle. I had 
really no idea you were so exceedingly goody-goody 
as tills comes to ; though, of course, I always set you 
down for one of the saints.’^ 

I regret that I have not fully met your expecta- 
tions. Even if my life falls short, it is still the aim 
of my heart to be one of the Lord’s ^ holy ones,’ ” 
replied Paul. 

Indeed ! Well, I am afraid if you knew me 
better, you would feel yourself contaminated by my 
presence ; so I’ll relieve you of it. I am going for a 
row on the creek. Will you come with me, Rob?” 

They had reached the corner of a street leading 
toward the creek as he spoke, and he turned in that 
direction. 

“Hot this afternoon, Clayt,” replied Rob, who 
was really much interested in what Paul had been 
saying, as well as in Paul himself. 

Clayton went off alone, and the other two pursued 
their way together. Rob was not willing that the 
conversation should drop, and resumed it as if there 
had been no interruption. 

“A medical missionary is what you will be then, I 


HIS CHOICE. 


55 


suppose. I have heard that they have wonderful op- 
portunities for helping the people.” 

Yes, the poor benighted creatures in many of those 
Eastern lands know as little about medicine as they do 
about Christ Jesus, and while curing the body there is 
an opportunity to bring soul-healing too. It is a 
work that needs laborers.” 

You seem possessed by a single idea,” remarked 
Rob, looking into the serious face. 

^^If a man carries out honorably and faithfully 
any one purpose in life, I believe he will have little 
time to dabble with others. It was an older and a 
wiser Paul than I who concentrated his efforts, saying, 
^This one thing I do.’” And a very happy but 
determined smile broke over his features, transforming 
them into that deep beauty which comes as the result 
of purity of purpose and heart. 

“ However, the One whom both you and that other 
Paul take for your example did a great many things 
in his life,” said Rob, for the sake of argument. 

Nothing, however, incongruous with the one great 
purpose of his life. Not an act did he perform in all 
those thirty-three years that did not in some way look 


56 


HIS CHOICE. 


toward the cross and the resurrection. ^ Wist ye not 
that I must be about my Father’s business?’ are the 
first recorded words from his lips, and ‘ I have finished 
the work which thou gavest me to do ’ is a part of 
his last prayer. Where can you find a record that 
approaches that of the Lord Jesus in concentration 
and consecration of purpose and determination of 
execution? ” 

Eob cleared his throat, and began to whittle a stick 
he had picked up from the ground. The young men 
had walked beyond the limits of the city proper, and 
were now sitting upon a rude bench beneath the shade 
of a drooping willow. 

The conversation was becoming ipore serious than 
Eob had intended, even though he had himself led it on. 

Probably all that you say is true, but you know 
I make no profession of religion myself,” he answered, 
as if thus excused entirely from any responsibility. 
Many people seem to have the strange idea that if 
they make no profession of doing right, they are 
thereby relieved from the obligation. 

Paul looked with clear, thoughtful, interested eyes 
at the youth before him. 


HIS CHOICE. 


57 


wish that you did, however,’^ he said. 

Come, now,’’ said Rob, trying to laugh. Don’t 
look at me in that way. I am not such a terrible 
sinner. I never did anything so very wicked in my 
whole life.” 

Are you sure ? ” 

Why, of course I am ! ” 

Perhaps your principal sin, then, lies in what you 
have not done,” suggested Paul, without once moving 
his steady gray eyes from his companion’s. 

Rob still tried to laugh; but under that steady 
gaze, he succeeded very poorly. 

“ I wonder what you expect of a fellow ? I go to 
church regularly ; I am said to be even too generous 
to the poor. But the fact is, I can’t bear to see any- 
body suffering. I learned the Commandments as soon 
as I could speak plainly ; and, so far as I know, I 
have kept every one of them.” 

“ That is much such a record as that of the young 
man whom, when Jesus beheld, he loved,” replied 
Paul. ^^But the Lord told him, ‘one thing thou 
lachestJ He had never followed Christ as his disciple.” 

“Do you mean to say that all the good he had done 


58 


HIS CHOICE. 


went for nothing?” asked Kob, though he could have 
answered that question himself. 

I don’t mean to tell you anything upon my own 
authority. The Bible teaches us that it is the negatives 
which keep men out of heaven. A man has only to 
^neglect so great salvation’ to be lost. It is not 
merely because we believe and act upon something 
desperately wrong ; but because we ' believe not in the 
Son of God ’ that we are condemned. It is true that 
if our hearts were not filled with ingratitude and sin- 
fulness we would not neglect — ^we would believe. 
Now, my dear boy, if you would be lost forever, you 
need make no effort ; all you have to do is to neglect 
Christ. Pay attention to everything else in the world, 
but neglect the love which came from heaven to save 
you — ^you need do nothing more.” 

But I don’t want to be lost — nobody that I can 
hear of wants to be lost,” replied Bob, earnestly 
adding, only I don’t see that there’s any desperate 
hurry about the matter.” 

That is just what we have been speaking of — 
neglect. We none of us know whether to-morrow, or 
next week, or next year, holds life or death for us. 


HIS CHOICE. 


69 


Besides, the invitation ^Seel^ ye the Lord while he 
may be found ; call upon him while he is near,’ con- 
tains, by implication, a terrible warning ; there may 
come a time when he may not be found. And a very 
important consideration is, that if we keep putting 
this matter off from year to year until our lives are 
well nigh spent, even if through God’s grace we then 
secure an entrance into heaven, we shall have through 
all eternity to look back upon wasted time, in which 
we should have served Christ.” 

Rob was deeply moved, more than he cared to 
admit, though he could not altogether conceal it. He 
rose and turned homeward. 

Paul walked beside him, but it was in silence. He 
felt that all had been said upon that subject that it 
was best to say at present ; but as he walked beside 
his friend, he lifted his heart in earnest prayer that 
God would bless and prosper the seed that had been 
sown. 

After an interval of silence, Paul asked, pleas- 
antly ; 

I have told you my plans for the future. May I 
not know yours ? ” 


60 


HIS CHOICE. 


You know Clayt^s father and mine are in businass 
together. They have offered to take us both, and I 
presume I shall go into the store. If he also decides 
to do so, we shall be fellow-clerks. I rather think, 
however, that at present he is disinclined to accept the 
position.” 

Why ? I should think that was a good opening. 
With your own fathers, you would have good oppor- 
tunity to rise, as you show yourselves worthy and 
capable. But perhaps he has a fancy for some other 
kind of work ? ” 

Bob shrugged his shoulders, and made a comical 
little grimace. 

So far as I have observed, Clayton Carmon has 
no fancy for anything that bears the remotest resem- 
blance to work,” he said. 

But a man, one who is worthy of the name, must 
do something in the world. God himself worked. 
Christ refers to that : ‘ My Father worketh hitherto, 
and I work,’ and man, to be a man, must work at 
something,” said Paul. 

So his father tells him — ^at least, so far as the 
necessity for his own work is concerned — and insists 











llis Choice 


Page 61 



HIS CHOICE. 


61 


upon his choosing something to which to devote him- 
self. Mr. Carmon has told father that he would much 
prefer taking his son into their business, and, as you 
say, he would give him every possible opportunity to 
rise ; still, if he prefers something else, he is willing 
to help him in whatever he may decide upon. Clayt 
has, therefore, talked over almost every business and 
profession under the sun — except perhaps the vocation 
of some such poor fellows as that.’’ And E-ob nodded 
in the direction of an old, forlorn-looking ragpicker, 
who with a long stick was probing into the depths of 
a box of ashes. 

A few bits of dirty rags, and one or .two other arti- 
cles, which seemed mere trash, were transferred from 
the ash-box to a torn and dirty bag. Then the bag 
was shouldered again, and the pititable fellow moved 
on to the next ash-barrel. 

The two young men looked after him, but with very 
diiferent thoughts. 

I wonder why the lower walks of life are kept so 
full all the time? Some people certainly have a 
strange choice,” said Eob. 

Do you believe, when that fellow was your age, 


62 


HIS CHOICE. 


he deliberately chose to be a ragpicker?” asked 
Paul. 

“ Why should he be one now, if he had not chosen 
it? I have no patience with the doctrine of fate. I 
believe that every man is the architect of his own for- 
tunes. I cannot conceive of any possible combination 
of circumstances which could sink me to that pitiable 
level.” And Kob drew his manly young form up to 
his fullest extent. 

Neither can I,” replied Paul, looking up into his 
face ; for, though so much younger, Pob was by several 
inches the taller of the two. “ But the ground for my 
faith is not because you do not choose to be a rag- 
picker, but because you do choose to be something 
else. I am sure that man did not make a deliberate 
and decided choice of his present occupation. If we 
were to ask him, I am almost positive we should find 
that he simply did not intelligently and positively 
choose anything higher. He made no choice that 
would lead to active effort. He probably now wishes 
that he were something different ; but wishing is not 
choosing — and we must choose.” 

‘‘ Perhaps you are right,” assented Bob, thought- 


HIS CHOICE. 


63 


fully, while they watched the farther efforts of the 
poor creature, who was now poking at something in 
the gutter to put in his collection. 

Half a square in advance of them was the street 
down which Paul must turn. Neither spoke again 
until its corner was reached. Then Paul extended liis 
hand, saying ; 

The rule, you see, works pretty much the same in 
all the affairs of life. A soul need not deliberately choose 
to be lost ; one need only neglect the offer of salvation. 
And a man need not choose to occupy the lowest walks 
of life, he need only neglect to fit himself for anything 
higher. We must all aim high if we don’t want to 
fall low. And we must aim with a steady, deter- 
mined, conscientious purpose. Good-bye, Rob, I 
am glad I met you this afternoon.” 

Paul wrung the hand that he held with a cordial 
grasp, and then turned and thoughtfully strode down 
the street, with the prayer in his heart that God would 
bless this boy and make him to decide aright in mat- 
ters of the greatest import. 


CHAPTER VII. 

CLAYTON CAKMON’S VIEWS. 

T) OB stood a moment looking after the retreating 
^ figure. 

‘‘I believe he is right,” he said, half aloud. ‘‘One 
thing is certain : he has a purpose, and I believe he is 
going to accomplish it. His aim is high — it reaches 
heaven itself. So far as this life is concerned, my 
aim is high too. I’ll work early, and late, and faith- 
fully too. ni be a rich man, and I’ll do good with 
my wealth. I’ll be my father’s partner one of these 
days ; and, when he is old, I will be his successor in 
the most successful business house in the city. I am 
willing to work hard in youth, that I may attain and 
appreciate rest in my old age. But as for the other 
— I believe Paul is right there too ; but T can’t 
decide upon that just now. There’s time enough, 
anyway.” 

He walked slowly along. He was on the principal 

thoroughfare of the city now, and going toward his 
64 


HIS CHOICE. 


65 


father’s store. So absorbed was he in his thoughts 
that he did not hear a footstep behind him, nor heed 
the near presence of any one, until Clayton Garmon 
took his arm with the remark : 

Humph ! you look exactly as if that young up- 
start had been trying his skill in converting you.” 

Rob started, and flushed a little. Should he tell 
Clayton what had been the subject of his conversation 
with Paul, and of his own thoughts? One look into 
the gay, sneering face convinced him that it would be 
worse than useless; so he made no answer, but merely 
remarked : 

You couldn’t have had a very long row on the 
creek ? ” 

I didn’t find anybody who wanted to take an oar, 
and it is too much trouble to do all the rowing one’s 
self. What did you and the Professor find to talk 
about ? It seems to have interested you most deeply.” 

You are mistaken. I have not met him this 
afternoon,” replied Rob. 

“ What ? Haven’t met whom ? ” 

The Professor. You seem to imagine yourself to 
be my confessor.” 

E 


66 


HIS CHOICE. 


‘^Oh, come, now ! You know to whom I refer, Pro- 
fessor Paul Elverton, m. d. What did he talk about?” 

Well, for one thing, you.” 

“ Indeed ! I feel honored. But I was not aware 
that he knew anything about me.” 

He' did not, I think, until I told him.” 

“Then it was you who did the talking. Well, 
we’re getting at the bottom of it now. What did 
you say about me, then ? ” 

“ I told him of the opening for both of us in the 
store, and that if you accepted we should be fellow- 
clerks. But I added that you seemed disinclined to 
do so.” 

“For which disinclination I suppose I incurred 
his lasting displeasure,” remarked Clayton, witl^^ a 
haughty toss of his head. “ However, I imagine I 
can live through that. Have you made up your 
mind, then, to go into the store. Bob ?” 

“Yes, I have; and I think we ought to be thankful 
that we have fathers who can put us at once in such 
good positions,” remarked Rob, with an emphasis he 
probably would not have thought of before his talk 
with Paul. 


HIS CHOICE. 


67 


Good positions, indeed ! A paltry clerkship, to 
measure off dress goods and tell the prices of the 
latest imported novelties ! If you call that a good 
position, Pd like to know what you would call a poor 
one. If father had offered me anything worth doing 
— to take me in as junior partner, or^eveii to give me 
the head bookkeeper’s place, I should have considered 
it. But I was not born for a clerk, and I won’t be 
one — that much is decided.” 

I mean to be partner in the business one of these 
days,” replied Rob, confidently. 

Indeed ? Has your father offered you that ? I 
wonder, then, why my father wants to keep me down 
to a paltry clerkship? I thought the positions 
offered us were the same. I am sure father said so.” 

So they are.” 

What do you mean then by saying you are going 
to be a partner ? ” 

I didn’t say I was going to enter the business as 
partner now. I don’t know enough, and should prob- 
ably make sorry work if I were there at present — 
but I mean to be a partner one day.” 

How are you going to be sure of it?” 


68 


HIS CHOICE. 


I am going to be faithful and honest, and learn 
all I can wherever I am put to work. I will try to 
make myself worthy of advancement ; and then, when 
there is an opening above me, I shall be ready to step 
up to it. I should really think it very strange if 
either of our fathers were to set aside tried and faith- 
ful men who have worked themselves up to higher 
positions, in order to put us in them, with our little 
knowledge and less experience. I’m going to climb 
there by my own efforts ; if I can’t, I shall not de- 
serve to be there at all.” 

^^Oh, ho!” said Clayton, mockingly. Noble 
sentiments — noble ! Have you any more to spare ? ” 
No,” said Eob, in a voice that he held in check, 
as he did not want his anger to get the better of him. 
“ It was what Paul Elverton said this afternoon that 
led me to make this resolve.” 

^^Ah, indeed? He must have been really eloquent; 
and it is quite probable I shall never know how 
much I missed by refusing to stay with you.” 

They had reached the point where they must sepa- 
rate to go to their homes, and Eob was not sorry; 
for the cool impudence and frivolous indifference of 


HIS CHOICE. 


69 


Clayton annoyed him almost beyond calm endurance. 
Before they parted, however, he asked : 

“But honestly, Clayt, what are you going to do?” 

“ I am going to have just as jolly and easy a time 
of it as I possibly can. It isn’t as if I were a poor 
man’s son. If I were, I think I should presently 
marry a fortune to help matters out. By the way, I 
have an engagement to call on that pretty little Nora 
Bead to-night. Good-bye, old fellow. Enjoy your 
climbing, if you can. I am pretty sure of enjoying 
life in my way, I fancy.” 

Clayton turned one way, and Bob the other. The 
latter quickened his pace, musing as he went along : 

“ I can’t help feeling sorry for Clayt. I wonder if 
he never heard the old maxim, ^ He laughs best who 
laughs last’? I’m afraid he’ll have his laugh all over 
about the time it ought to begin.” 

A few more steps, and Bob passed in at a neat 
iron gate. Level gravel walks between finely kept 
lawns and flowers and evergreens led up to the broad 
brown-stone steps before the beautiful house he called 
his home. He looked up at it now, with some of 
Clayton’s foolish words still ringing in his ear. 


70 


HIS CHOICE. 


father was a poor man’s son/’ he said to 
himself. ^^And he did not obtain this house, and 
grounds by having an easy and jolly time of it. 
What an ungrateful fellow I should be, if I were to 
presume upon his hard-earned competence, as Clayt 
proposes to ! I have heard it said that only poor 
men’s sons succeed in life. And I fear Clayt is going 
to show the truth of this saying. But it is a burning 
shame for those whose fathers give them every ad- 
vantage. Paul is right. Rich or poor, he wins 
who strives; and life was meant to be a time for 
work.” 

Rob passed in at the open door, and went straight 
to the library. He expected to find his father there 
at this hour, and was not disappointed. 

He was seated in a great study-chair, with Con- 
cordance and Bible Dictionary and Bible on its arm- 
table. Rob knew that he was preparing the Bible 
Lesson which he taught every Sunday to his large 
class in the Sunday-school. Mr. Senderling always 
used for preparation the time when he was resting 
from business. 

However deeply engrossed he might be in his 


HIS CHOICE. 


71 


study, lie was never yet known to be too busy to be 
interested in all that interested liis only son. 

‘‘Well, my boy?” he asked, looking up pleasantly 
from his books as Eob entered. 

“ Shall I go to the store with you, sir, to-morrow 
morning?” asked Eob. 

“ To enter upon your duties there ? Why Eob, I 
thought perhaps you would like to have a longer vaca- 
tion. It is not quite two weeks yet since school 
closed,” said his father. 

“ I know it, sir, but the work in the store will be 
so entirely new that the change in itself will be rest. 
I do not think I need a longer vacation, and I am 
anxious to get to work. I am ready to begin at 
once,” replied Eob. ^ 

“ That is well, my boy,” said his father. “ It is 
also well to carry the application of that thought to 
higher and nobler work than the concerns of this 
world. Now that you are just starting out in life, I 
have thought much about this matter, Eob. You 
have always been a good boy, my son, but that is not 
sufficient. It is only when we stand in the righteous- 
ness of Christ that we stand justified. While you are 


72 


HIS CHOICE. 


striving for an honorable, and, I trust, useful earthly 
life, do not neglect those weightier matters of the life 
which lasts forever. Do you know that your father 
is praying for you every day of your life ? 

Yes, sir,’^ replied Kob, without looking up, for 
the boy had always known that. His lip trembled, 
and his eye moistened as he spoke ; and, somehow, he 
could not help thinking of the prayers that he in- 
stinctively felt had been breathed above his infant 
head by lips that were cold in death — for Rob’s 
mother was no longer here to pray for her boy. 

The tea-bell rang at that moment. Mr. Senderling 
rose, and passing his hand through the arm of his tall, 
manly son, they passed together through the hall, to 
the dining-room. As they went, the father continued : 

^^It is an excellent thing to be a good business- 
man, Rob — to be thorough and faithful in whatever 
line one marks out in life ; and from the spirit which 
you have manifested to-day I believe that you will 
be just that. But the very highest attainments of 
human life are worth little — I should say nothing — 
if we neglect the weightier matter of the soul’s 
salvation.” 


HIS CHOICE. 


73 


Neglect ! ” Neglect ! ” The word repeated 
itself, over and over again, in Rob’s ear. Why had 
his father used just that very word, of all others ? — 
the one that Paul Elverton had used that afternoon ? 


CHAPTER VIII. 


BLESSINGS AND BENEFITS. 

T he almost level ravs of the early morning sun lay 
in mild beauty over the earth, creeping in at 
Edith Hendry^s half-closed blinds, and throwing long, 
slender shadows from the trees on the lawn. Edith 
loved to watch these shadows, and she cast many a 
glance from the window while she was making her 
usual morning toilet. 

She then took up her Bible to read. In the morn- 
ing she usually read a single verse — the one her eyes 
lit upon first. Her evening reading was longer and 
more systematic ; but she chose these random verses 
for the morning, and often they proved comforts or 
warnings, or in some way helpful through the day. 

This morning she was looking out at the long 
shadows while she opened her Bible. She had opened 
it in the Old Testament, and looking down on the 
page, she read : 

^ And I will make thee a great nation, and I will 
74 


HIS CHOICE. 


75 


bless thee and make thy name great, and thou shalt be 
a blessing.’ — And thou shalt be a blessing ! ” 

What beautiful words they were! Edith knew 
perfectly well that they were spoken originally to 
Abraham; but was not God just as willing to make 
people blessings now as then? Did not the world 
need blessings just as much now? And would he 
make her a blessing if she asked him very earnestly ? 

She knelt, down, and this was her prayer : Lord, 
make me to be a blessing. Make me to carry the 
blessing of thy wonderful love wherever I go.” 

“ What is it, mamma ? Another of your head- 
aches ? ” she asked, as she came into the breakfast- 
room. 

am afraid it is, dear; and I am particularly 
sorry, for there are several things I wanted to do to- 
day,” Mrs. Hendry replied. 

What is the use of a daughter, if she don’t help 
you ? Can’t I do them, or, at least, some of them for 
you?” asked Edith. 

Perhaps you can, dear. Since your school duties 
no longer claim you, there are several things I would 
like you do with me.” 


76 


HIS CHOICE. 


“ Oh, mamma ! To work with yon will be delight- 
ful ! But to-day you must rest, and let me work for 
you, if there is anything with which you can trust 
me.’^ 

Breakfast was now brought in, and the rest of the 
family being summoned, this matter claimed their im- 
mediate attention. When the meal was over, Edith 
ascertained several of the things that had been upon 
her mother’s programme for the day, and though 
somewhat inexperienced, she was able to attend to 
them with a fair degree of credit. 

“And now, what else, mamma?” Edith asked, as 
she came to the lounge where her mother was resting, 
and passed her cool, soft hand over the throbbing brow 
for several moments. 

“ I did intend to take a small basket of comforts to 
Mrs. Blumm to-day ; but you will not care to go 
there, especially for the first time, alone,” Mrs. Hen- 
dry replied. 

“ Why not, mamma ? Who is Mrs. Blumm ? ” 

“ She is a woman whom I have met through our 
Friendly Aid. Her daughter came here one day with 
a physician’s prescription. I never told you much 


HIS CHOICE. 


77 


about the workings of that Society, because you have 
been so busy with your school duties. We sign the 
prescription of a regular practicing physician, and wheu 
thus signed, there are several druggists who will fill 
them, and then send the bill to the Aid. We make 
it a rule to sign these at once, even for entire strangers, 
as delay may be dangerous. But we always make 
special inquiry afterwards, before we extend further 
help. 

We found Mrs. Blumm poor, old, sick, and un- 
happy. She has a daughter who worked in a mill, 
and thus earned a scanty support for the two until, 
during the strikes, the mill that she worked in closed. 
She is now helped by the Aid, and I have been in the 
habit of sending her some things. However, I will 
not ask you to go ; for a visit to her is never a 
pleasure.” 

Edith went on stroking her mother’s brow for a 
few moments in silence. She was thinking of the 
verse she had read that morning, and the prayer she 
had breathed afterwards that God would make her a 
blessing. Presently she said, slowly : 

I suppose if one wishes to be a blessing in the 


78 


HIS CHOICE. 


world, one must not think too much about one’s self. 
Besides, why might I not as well do some of the 
unpleasant things as for you to do them all ? Do yoii 
think Mrs. Blumm needs the things, or that I could 
do her any good by going ? ” 

I am quite certain she would be glad to have the 
things, though it is very probable she would not tell 
you so. I always read to her a while when I go. I 
must own that I never yet saw that she was benefited 
by it. Still we have to leave those things in the 
hands of the Lord.” 

To visit a poor, sick, ungrateful old woman was 

p 

certainly not a pleasant prospect, and Edith indulged 
no poetic ideas about it. To consult her taste alone, 
she certainly would finish the book she was reading, 
or work a while on the cunning little Kate Greenaway 
figures she had been outlining on a new splasher for 
the spare-room, or practice her music lesson. In- 
deed, this last came to her mind as perhaps a duty, 
though she felt that no doubt there would be ample 
time for this after her return. 

Then remembering her prayer, she felt ashamed 
that at the first unpleasant task she faltered. 


HIS CHOICE. 


79 


It did not take so long for her to think of all these 
things as it has taken to write them down. Indeed, 
her mother scarcely noticed any hesitation at all 
before she said : 

I will take them, mamma. She may need them, 
and beside I may need the discipline of going.’’ 

Mrs. Hendry drew the dear young face down close 
to her own. 

What a dear, helpful child you are, Edith ! I 
thank God every day for having given you to me. 
Since the day you were born you have been one of my 
brightest and best blessings.” 

Edith’s prayer was answered, or at least the knowl- 
edge of the answer came sooner than she expected. 

Mrs. Hendry was right in anticipating that Mrs. 
Blumm would not express the least gratitude for any- 
thing. If Edith had been working for thanks, she 
would have felt her visit a sad failure. 

The woman leaned upon. her elbow in bed, and 
looked at each article as it was taken out of the 
basket- with the eye of a critic rather than of a 
recipient of benefits. 

What kind of jelly is that?” she asked. 


80 


HIS CHOICE. 


Quince/’ replied Edith. 

I never did fancy quince jelly. I like currant a 
great deal better/’ said the invalid. 

This tumbler is currant, I think,” said Edith, set- 
ting another, a smaller one, beside the quince jelly. 

Humph ! the big one is quince, and the little one 
currant, and I like currant the best. That always 
was my luck,” said Mrs. Blumm, with a sigh. 

This loaf of bread is very fresh and nice ; it is 
almost warm from the oven,” remarked Edith, mainly 
for something to say. 

Well, that is none the better for me. I eat noth- 
ing but toast of late, and fresh bread don’t make 
toast as nice as stale. What is in that paper ? ” 

It feels like tea,” said Edith, holding the small 
paper bag between her fingers, and keeping back at 
the same time some hasty words which she felt it 
would be a positive relief to utter. 

^^What kind of tea is it? I am very particular 
about what I drink. If it isn’t mixed black and 
green, and mostly black, I can’t even swallow it.” 

Edith opened the paper, and held it so that the 
light fell in upon its contents. 


HIS CHOICE. 


81 


“ Then you are suited, for that is exactly what it 

is, ” she replied. 

It is well that it is. Now I think of it, I re- 
member that I told your ma that I couldn’t drink 
any other.” 

Then there came some lemons and sugar, and a 
half dozen oranges, with which Mrs. Blumm could 
not possibly find fault. And the last thing to be 
taken out of the basket was a bowl, around which 
the other things had been carefully packed, and which 
contained some of the custard they had had for their 
own dessert that day. 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Blumm, when she had inspected 

it, “ I suppose that will do for Barb.” (Her daughter’s 
name was Barbara.) “ You make things too sweet at 
your house to suit my taste. I never did like much 
sugar, and I don’t believe it is healthy, either.” 

Edith was thoroughly glad there was nothing more 
in the basket to be found fault with. 

But now, unfortunately, there was absolutely no 
more to be said. Mrs. Blumm had settled back on 
her pillow again, and looked as if nothing more could 
be of interest in this visit. 

F 


82 


HIS CHOICE. 


Presently it occurred to Edith that she might put 
the things away off the table, and she offered to do so. 
Mrs. Blumm refused this, however. Moreover, she 
refused it in a tone which sent the warm blood surging 
up into Edith’s face ; for it seemed to imply that the 
young visitor wished to pry into affairs that did not 
concern her. 

It’ll be time enough for that when Barb comes. 
They won’t take any hurt standing there until then,” 
said Mrs. Blumm. 

Edith looked around the room for something to say 
or do next. On a stand between the two side windows 
lay a Bible. Shall I read to you ? ” asked Edith, 
reaching out her hand toward the volume. 

You may do as you please about it. Your ma 
always does, though I don’t know as I care much 
about it,” was the ungracious assent. 

Still it was an assent, and Edith took the Bible, 
wondering what could touch this ungrateful woman’s 
heart, and what she had best read. 

The Book opened of its own accord to the Psalms. 
A bunch of flowers had been pressed just there some 
of Barb’s foolishness,” Mrs. Blumm remarked as she 


HIS CHOICE. 


83 


saw it), and a red blossom had left its mark over the 
words ; 

“ Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within 
me bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, 
and forget not all his benefits.” 

Edith read it slowly, reverently, and then repeated 
the last sentence again : 

“ And forget not all his benefits.” 

It reminded her of the neglect not ” that her 
mother had written in her Bible more than two years 
ago; and in her heart she wondered if David had 
not strong reasons for putting down just exactly those 
words. How easy it is to forget the Lord’s benefits ! 
How often she had been guilty of that herself, taking 
them as a matter of course ! 

But her reflections were necessarily very short, for 
Mrs. Blumrn’s querulous voice broke in with : 

Benefits ! It’s precious few benefits I have to 
remember.” 

May you not be one to whom the Lord is speaking 
because you have forgotten them ? ” suggested Edith. 

I tell you I never had any to forget,” replied the 
sick woman, with a frown. 


84 


HIS CHOICE. 


Why, Mrs. Blumm, life itself is a benefit from 
God’s hand: you cannot forget that?” said Edith, 
earnestly. 

‘‘ Humph ! I call it a mighty poor sort of a bene- 
fit when a body has to lie in bed all her life,” was 
the ungracious reply. 

‘‘ Have you lain here all your life ? ” inquired 
Edith, ready to sympathize with the woes of so trying 
a case. 

Oh, no ; of course not ! ” 

Mrs. Blumm did not seem inclined to follow the 
conversation further ; but Edith’s next question was 
very direct, and needed an answer. 

How long have you been sick, Mrs. Blumm ? ” 

It’s nigh on to two months now ; and I haven’t 
been able to sit up an hour in all that time.” 

‘‘Were you in poor health before two months 
ago?” 

“ Bless you, no ! That’s what makes it so hard for 
me now. I never knew a sick day in all my life 
until two months ago.” 

“That certainly was a most remarkable benefit. 
There are few women of your age that could say the 


HIS CHOICE. 


85 


same, I think. Did you remember to thank God for 
it while it was yours?” 

“ I don’t know as I did ; but that is not now,” 
replied Mrs. Blumm, not well pleased. 

Well, there is your daughter Barbara,” suggested 
Edith, as she remembered her own mother’s words of 
that morning. 

I guess you don’t know Barb, do you ? ” asked 
Mrs. Blumm, with an evasiveness that was not at all 
complimentary to that young lady. 

No, I don’t know her ; but I should think she 
would be a great comfort to you. How could you 
manage without her ? ” 

‘‘That’s what I’ll have to find out, I suppose, 
as soon as she marries Joe Horner; and that will 
be when the mill starts up again, I reckon. He 
has no work now. That is the way with girls. As 
soon as you need them to help you a bit, they are off. 
That is .the sort of a benefit Barb is.” 

Edith groaned inwardly, and cast about in her 
mind for a benefit that would be recognized as such. 

“ Here is this snug little home of yours. I think 
you own it, don’t you?” 


86 


HIS CHOICE. 


“And mighty hard work I had to keep it too,” 
assented Mrs. Blumm. “ My old man never was any 
too beforehanded. He was real smart, though, he 
was, when he was young. He knew a little bit of 
almost everything. But when it came down to work 
that would earn an honest ‘living, why he wasn’t there 
more than half the time. My father left me this 
house. My husband liked to be experimenting with 
all sorts of highfalutin’ things instead of working 
steady ; and he was downright angry with me half a 
dozen times, he was, for not letting him mortgage the 
house to get money to carry on some of his nonsense. 
But, no. I wouldn’t do it. I said my father worked 
hard, and earned the money, and left it to me, and I’m 
going to keep it ; and I did. Where would it have 
been now, I’d like to know, if he had had his way?” 

Edith made a last desperate effort : 

“ Then I suppose you look upon that as a benefit. 
1 mean the fact that you insisted upon retaining the 
house.” 

Mrs. Blumm looked for a moment as if slie felt 
herself fairly caught in her own acknowledgment; 
but then she remarked : 


HIS CHOICE. 87 

“ Well, if I do, Fve nobody to thank for it but 
myself.’^ 

Edith gave up in despair. She read the rest of the 
Psalm without comment. If the reading did poor 
Mr. Blumm no good, it certainly did Edith. 

And forget not all his benefits.’’ 

How many of his benefits had she become so used 
to receiving that she had come to look upon them as 
a matter of course, and so had forgotten them as 
such ! 

She thought it over, and that night she brought 
the Bible to her mother with this request : 

Mamma, here is another command that I want 
you to write here on the fly-leaf underneath the 
^ neglect not.’ It is ^ forget not ’ — ^forget not all his 
benefits.’ ” 

Do you feel that there is danger ? ” asked Mrs. 
Hendry, with a smile. 

‘^I am afraid there is, mamma. You remember 
what you told me a long while ago about the sins of 
omission ; and I believe there is nothing easier than 
to forget a benefit, unless it may be to remember an 
injury.” 


88 


HIS CHOICE. 


But I did not ask you how you enjoyed your visit 
to Mrs. Blumm ? asked Mrs. Hendry, after she had 
complied with her daughter’s request. 

“I did not exactly enjoy it; but, at least, it did me 
good. That was what started me to remembering my 
benefits. She seems to have forgotten all about such 
things. Mamma, this morning I prayed that God 
would make me a blessing, and I thought, perhaps, I 
could do her some good. But I don’t believe I did.” 

We don’t know about that. You must leave the 
result of your visit to God, my darling.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


FATHER AND SON. 

^ ^ "ITTELL, Clayton, have you come to a decision 

VV yet?” 

Mr. Carmon pushed back plate and cup, after his 
finished breakfast, just as his son, looking scarcely half 
awake, made his first appearance for the morning. 

No, sir, I believe I have not yet,” Clayton an- 
swered, as if it were a matter of very little importance. 
Mr. Carmon frowned in deep displeasure. 

“ When do you think you will ? ” he asked. 

I couldn’t tell, indeed,” answered the boy, indif- 
ferently, as' he received his coffee from the hand of a 
servant. Then seeing his father’s evident disapproval, 
he added, with affected thoughtfulness : “ A matter 
which affects one’s whole lifetime is of sufficient im- 
portance to require time to think over.” 

‘‘ And you have had time. It is nearly two months 
since school closed, and you seem no nearer a decision 

now than at first. * In fact, I doubt if you have given 

89 


90 


HIS CHOICE. 


an honest thought to the matter.” The last was added 
with evident impatience. 

Indeed, you are mistaken there. One of the boys 
of our class is going to study medicine. Fve no idea of 
following up his fantastical notions ; but it has led me 
to think of the eminent respectability of the life of a 
•physician. And a wealthy physician, who has a hand- 
some team and a good driver, seems to have a pretty 
easy time of it in life.” 

Your estimate of ^an easy time^ differs somewhat 
from mine, if you consider that it can be met with in 
the life of a practicing physician. He is up and out 
at all hours, exposed to all weathers, and taking care 
of everybody’s rest and health except his own. How- 
ever, that is not the question. Men were not put in 
the world to see how easy a life they" can have. I 
had to work, and work hard, and I do believe every 
man owes to the world a life of usefulness and happi- 
ness. I am not a Christian, but I believe this upon 
common sense and humanitarian views. If you really 
desire to study medicine, I will see • to your entering 
the college in the city — the fall term will begin soon.” 

Most of this was entirely lost upon Clayton, who 


HIS CHOICE. 91 

remarked, carelessly, as he helped himself to a fresh 
roll : 

I don’t think you need bother about it just yet. 
I have not fully decided upon it.” 

“ Clayton, I really cannot allow this nonsense any 
longer. If you do not decide at once, I shall be forced 
to do so for you,” remarked Mr. Garmon, with un- 
usual emphasis. 

And what will your decision be ? ” 

“ That you must go into the store, as at first 
proposed.” 

In what capacity ? ” 

Clerk.” 

Why don’t you ask me to be porter ? ” 

You may be that if you choose j but you must 
do something.” 

Clayton flushed angrily, and he looked up with an 
immense assumption of dignity. 

Sir, I consider that you have insulted me,” he 
exclaimed, hotly. 

‘‘You are at liberty to consider whatever you 
please. Some people have a talent for inviting what 
they choose to call insults, and then getting angry 


92 


HIS CHOICE. 


over it/’ replied Mr. Garmon, with perfect coolness 
— a coolness that was most exasperating to the un- 
reasonable young man. I only say, and shall 
maintain it, that you must do something. If you find 
the position of porter more congenial than that of 
clerk, I shall not interfere. However, I shall not 
allow my son to live in aimless idleness. I had to 
work hard for my living, and every man to be a man 
ought to do so.” 

One would imagine that you were as poor as 
Job’s turkey now, that I must enter such a menial 
position, and work like a dog for a living,” replied 
Clayton, who, finding that he could make nothing by 
being dignified, dropped that tone, and now assumed 
the injured one. 

Whether I may be poor or otherwise, has nothing 
to do in the case. As for the position of clerk that I 
offer you, I have told yoU a score of times that as 
soon as you show yourself thoroughly competent, and 
an opportunity offers, you shall be raised. What 
more do you want ? ” 

But clerking is very confining work,” complained 
Clayton. 


HIS CHOICE. 


93 


more confining than any strong, healthy 
young man of your age ought to be willing to under- 
take. The men who make their mark in this world 
are the men who are not afraid of work, and hard 
work too.” 

But I have never been brought up to work,” 
Clayton objected again. 

I am sorry I have so far neglected your education. 
I will try to make amends for it in the future,” was 
the rather unexpected, but certainly well-deserved 
answer, which this remark received. 

The lad swallowed his coffee in sullen silence, and 
then rose from the table, his face showing his ill 
humor. 

Just such a discussion as this had been begun 
several times since that day when he graduated ; but 
his mother had usually been present, and long before 
it had been pressed to its present uncomfortable 
length, she had entered her protest something after 
this manner : 

“ Now, James, dear ” (she alwa^^s called Mr. Gar- 
mon ‘‘ James dear,” when she especially wanted some- 
thing done to suit her), “ don’t trouble the boy. I 


94 


HIS CHOICE. 


know he is not feeling .quite well to-day. Let him 
have a little longer rest before he thinks of what he 
is to do in the future. You know ‘ boys will be 
boys/ and you really can’t blame him for wanting to 
have a good time now that he is young. He is only 
nineteen, and many boys are still in school at that 
age.” 

‘‘And I am perfectly willing that he shall continue 
at school,” Mr. Carmon would reply. “ I’ll send him 
to college if tie wants to go, and will show enough 
interest to warrant me in so doing. I am perfectly 
willing he should do anything he chooses, provided 
he does something. It is his doing nothing that I 
object to.” 

Clayton felt disappointed and angry this morning, 
that his mother was not present to intercede for him. 
In fact, this was Mr. Cannon’s principal reason for 
opening and pressing the subject at this time. His 
wife had finished her breakfast, and had excused her- 
self to attend to the dressmaker, who had come early 
that morning; and the husband knew there was no 
likelihood of her speedy return to the dining-room. 

'“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Clayton,” said his 


HIS CHOICE. 


95 


'father, as the young man arose. We’ll say no more 
about this subject until the first day of September, a 
little more than a week from now. Then, if you 
have decided upon any course. I’ll help you. If not, 
you must enter the store. My only motive is kind- 
ness to you. It would give me much less trouble at 
present to let you go to ruin as you please, and not 
worry about it,” he added. 

“ Strange sort of kindness, it strikes me,” muttered 
the young man, fiercely. 

“ Clayton, if I were to lose all I am worth to-day, 
what would you do to-morrow?” 

“I don’t know. You are not going to lose it; so 
there’s no use talking of it.” 

«But if I should?” 

I don’t know. Something — ^anything, I suppose. 
But as you are not going to lose it, I don’t see any 
sense in the question.” 

I hope I am not ; but, of course, it is possible, 
and the question is always a wise one. The father 
who brings up sons without giving them the knowl- 
edge of some trade or business or profession is guilty 
of unpardonable neglect — one may almost say, of a 


96 


HIS CHOICE. 


crime; for many a crime is directly due to this. 
Such men are an outrage on society, a blot on the 
earth ; and I am not willing that my son should be 
one of them.” 

Mr. Garmon was roused, and spoke warmly. 

I think you are very harsh and unkind,” whined 
Clayton. 

‘‘As I said before, you are at liberty to think 
exactly what you please,” remarked Mr. Garmon, as 
he rose and prepared to leave for the store. 

Clayton crossed the hall to the sitting-room, and 
then flung himself down on a wide, luxurious lounge, 
with his sullen face covered from sight. A little 
while later his mother, having been released from the 
dressmaker, found him there. 

“Why, Clayton, my love, what is the matter? 
Has anything occurred to trouble you ? ” she asked, 
in deep solicitude. 

“ I should think there had ! ” he replied, his voice 
half smothered in the cushion. He was sure now of 
sympathy. 

“ What is it, dear ? Tell me all about it,” asked 
his mother. 



His Choice 












HIS CHOICE. 


97 


Claytou suffered his head to be taken into her lap, 
but he still looked and spoke as if he were very much 
abused. 

Father says I must go into the store on the first 
of September, whether I want to or not/^ was the 
statement, or rather misstatement, that he made. 

‘‘ I cannot think he really means it. I will talk to 
him. Don’t worry about it now, dear; just leave it 
to me. Is there anything you would rather do than 
go in the store?” said this injudicious mother. 

“ I think I would rather study medicine,” he 
remarked, after a little pause. 

Well, don’t worry. I’ll coax father to let you 
do that.” 

Of course, Mrs. Garmon had little difficulty in 
‘‘coaxing” her husband to consent to this; for, as he 
had said, his only desire was that his son should 
make choice of some useful life calling, and then enter 
upon it. 

Accordingly, Clayton Garmon went to the city that 
winter to study medicine. 

Paul Elverton entered the medical college at the 

same time. The Lord had “opened the way” to 
Q 


98 


HIS CHOICE. 


him sooner than he had anticipated, and, in truth, in 
a way that he neither knew nor understood. 

Paul and Edith frequently met each other during 
the summer which followed their graduation from 
Hallberg Academy. Paul never forgot that kindly 
smile the girl had given him at a time when a great 
part of his little world seemed to have set itself 
against him. 

They met often. As he came to know more of her 
character, his admiration deepened, and he found her 
society growing more and more delightful to him. 
They had many plans and' aspirations alike. He 
told her of his hopes in regard to his life-work, and 
said that he would enter upon his study of medicine 
as soon as the Lord opened the way for him to do so. 

By the death of the aunt after whom Edith had 
been named she had become the possessor of a small 
sum, the interest of which would be sufficient to cover 
the annual expenses at the medical college. Formerly 
this interest had always been reinvested ; but now it 
was at her own disposal. 

She had made the expenditure of this little income 
the subject of earnest prayer. All that she needed 


HIS CHOICE. 


99 


was generously supplied by her father. Aud the 
question in Edith’s mind was — How could she spend 
this money for the Lord ? 

. The consequence of it all was that a draft enclosed 
in a note without signature was sent to Paul Elver- 
ton, with a statement that it would be sent yearly 
while he continued at his studies. 

Paul accepted this as from the Lord. Never once 
in his thoughts did he connect Edith with the myste- 
rious gift. He took it as an answer to prayer, and 
studied conscientiously. 


CHAPTEE X. 


NEW YEAE’s eve in CHURCH. 

TT was New YeaPs Eve, and it occurred this 
year on the evening of the Lord’s Day. 

Eob Senderling attended church regularly. He 
had been brought up to do so, and would scarcely 
have known what to do with himself and his time on 
Sunday were it not for church and Sunday-school. 

Eeba Ash wood attended church too, for the same 
reason ; and she met pleasant people there, so that it 
was pleasanter to go than to stay at home. 

Nora Eead attended occasionally — when it was 
neither too warm nor too cold; when she had no 
love-story on hand that she wanted to finish, and 
when she had not completely tired herself out during 
the week. Very little exertion fatigued Nora Eead 
too much to attend church ; but if it were a party, pr 
a lecture, or a concert, that was proposed, she never 
once thought of being tired. 

Clayton Carmon was another occasional attendant. 
100 


HIS CHOICE. 


101 


He was home now for the Christmas holidays, and 
the capital he made out of being a medical student, 
and his gratified vanity when some of his friends 
anticipated the conclusion of his course by two years 
and -a half, and addressed him as Doctor,’’ was 
positively amusing to all but himself and his mother, 
and perhaps Nora Read, who looked upon Clayton 
with very partial eyes. 

Nora went to church this New Year’s Eve, because 
Clayton had called for her and taken her there. It 
would have made little difference to her whether the 
sermon was to be preached in English or Latin ; for 
she did not go with the idea of being benefited by 
anything she heard. 

Reba was there that night, with the solemn thoughts 
which the close of a year always brought to her. 
Never since Reba had been old enough to think much 
about it had the thirty-first day of December come 
without tearful regrets for the past, and large promises 
for the future — promises that she could not keep in 
her own strength ; yet that was all in which Reba 
trusted. 

To-day she had sorrowfully asked herself : Who 


102 


HIS CHOICE. 


was the better for her seveDteen-and-a-half years of 
life ? And sadly had she responded ; No one.” 

She had looked over her carefully-wrought paintings 
and poems, and thought of her music ; but, in it all, 
she knew that she had been desiring praise and favor 
for herself rather than the good of any living creature. 

What wonder, then, that she had been forced to 
answer this searching question in the negative ? 

The thought of the entirely selfish aims of her life 
had not even occurred to her, though she wondered 
over and over again whether the result of the next 
twelve months would be as unsatisfactory as those that 
had just passed and gone. 

Rob Senderling had come in early, and he sat watch- 
ing his friends as they entered. His thoughts had not 
been unlike Reba’s. He had looked back into the 
past and forward into the future ; and he was far 
from wishing that all the future might be just as the 
past. 

When Paul Elverton came in and took his seat, and 
bowed his head for a moment in silent prayer, Rob 
looked at him and recalled their conversation on that 
summer day not long after Commencement. He had 


HIS CHOICE. 


103 


acted upon the advice then given, so far as the affairs 
of this life were concerned, and had profited thereby. 
But as for the other — well, lie had not decided just 
yet ; that was all. 

Edith Hendry was there, of course. As she 
glanced around and saw several of her former school- 
mates who were still out of Christ, she lifted her 
heart in prayer that they might soon be led to decide 
for him. 

When the usual opening exercises were over, the 
minister, instead of giving out his text, stood for a 
moment in absolute silence; and then, leaning across 
the open Bible, he related this fact : 

In the northwestern part of Pennsylvania there is 
a court-house, upon whose summit I stood one day last 
summer. The janitor, who had kindly shown me 
over the building, stood beside me and pointed out the 
different objects of interest to be seen from that ele- 
vated point of view. While thus engaged, a passing 
cloud gave us a slight sun-shower. 

Eight along the ridge-pole of the roof of this 
building there was a flattened — in fact, slightly in- 
dented — space of perhaps six inches in width. As we 


104 


HIS CHOICE. 


stood there, the rain drops came dancing down in the 
sunlight, its rays turning each into a diamond of 
brightness. 

Some fell on one side of the roof, and some on 
the other ; but some fell in this little hollowed space 
that I have spoken of, forming little glistening eddies 
and pools, dimpling into a thousand rays of bright- 
ness, as each new drop was added to the number 
already there. 

‘^But presently it became full, and over-brimmed 
its bounds. The man by my side called ray attention 
to this fact, and asked : 

^ Do you know where these drops go ? ’ 

I did not, and he said : 

^ Those that fall upon this side are drained off to 
a little creek that runs along just in sight yonder. 
That, in time, runs into Lake Erie, and you know 
where its waters go, northward, through the Niagara 
River ; and our little drop goes hurrying along, over 
the rapids, dashing over the Falls, and whirling around 
in the whirlpool, until it leaves this tumult for tbe 
broader, quieter Ontario. But it cannot stay there ; 
it is swept onward over rapids again, as it travels- the 


HIS. CHOICE. 


105 


length of the tumultuous St. Lawrence, then into St. 
Lawrence Gulf, until finally it is swept out into old 
ocean itself, to be mingled among the cold waters of 
the^northern sea. 

“ ‘The drop which falls on this side is drained into 
a tributary of the Alleghany River, which, you know, 
at Pittsburg unites with the Monongahela River to 
form the Ohio, along whose busy current it flows, 
until it reaches the “Father of Waters,’’ the muddy 
Mississippi. It has a long journey now, but pres- 
ently it reaches the Gulf of Mexico; and then, in 
the Gulf Stream, it is borne out to the warm waters 
of the southern sea.’ 

“So these two drops, which played, and eddied, 
and dimpled here in the little space of six inches, 
under the same atmosphere, sparkling in the same 
sun-rays, are separated by the distance of a quarter 
of the circumference of the globe. 

“ My friends, I fear that some here to-night may 
be like those drops. You are here to-night breathing 
the same air, having the same privileges, hearing the 
same words ; but it may be that consequences which 
eternity alone shall reveal will depend upon the w^ay 


106 


HIS CHOICE. 


you turn when you leave this little space. You may 
turn your faces heavenward — God grant you may — 
and spend all the ages of the endless beyond in the 
blissful presence and service of God. Or you may 
turn your hearts away from God’s offer of salvation ; 
and your course will be downward, downward, until 
you reach the depths of woe in everlasting punish- 
ment. 

But in another respect you are not like the drops 
that I saw. They obeyed only the inevitable law of 
gravitation, and upon whichever side they rolled, it 
was without their own volition. 

You are not thus bound by any law beyond your 
own will. What you do, you may do voluntarily 
and intelligently. Whichever way you turn, it is of 
your own will. 

There come moments in each one of our lives 
when we must make a definite choice in matters of 
this life. Moments when we must say ^ yes,’ or ^ no,’ 
and upon such little words as these a whole future 
career may depend. But to-night I bring to your 
hearts a matter of even weightier importance than 
any such; for its results reach onward through 


HIS CHOICE. 


107 


eternity itself. To-night in my text, I bring you the 
words of the living God : 

‘ I have set before you life and death, blessing and 
cursing. Therefore, choose life that both thou and 
thy children may live.’ 

Choose life. It is before you ; but it can never 
be yours unless you voluntarily choose it for your 
own. 

Does any one say, ^ Certainly I will choose life — 
any one would choose life ; but not now. At present 
I will enjoy the world and its pleastires. I will 
choose life, but another time will answer for the 
avowal ’ ? Ah ! but who knows whether or not 
to-night this closing of the old year and threshold of 
the new one may be for you the turning-point of your 
history, to which you can no more return than those 
same identical drops, in all their tiny, elemental parti- 
cles, could return again to their olden place on the 
top of that building. 

You mistake if you think you can put this mat- 
ter off, and decide at some other time just as you could 
now. Nothing in Nature stands still; nor do we. 
You do not stand where you did last year, or where 


108 


HIS CHOICE. 


you will a year from now. You do not see the 
change? But God does. In eternity you will. 

There is a significant verse in immediate connec- 
tion with my text : ^ But if thine heart turn away, so 
that thou wilt not hear, hut shalt be drawn away to 
worship other gods and serve them, ye shall surely 
perish.’ 

Perhaps you think you are not deciding now, but 
your hearts will be drawn away. Perhaps you think 
you need not choose this day whom you will serve ; 
but in reality you are choosing : you are deciding 
now. If it is not voluntarily and intelligently for 
Christ, for him now, you are deciding against him.and 
for the world. And how shall we escape if we neglect 
so great salvation f 

‘^Neglect? Neglect? Let me relate to you another 
incident : 

A building was on fire. The mother was carried 
put of danger by strong arms. But her baby — where 
was her baby ? Above the din and bustle, above the 
roar of the flames and the hissing of the water, its 
frightened cry could be heard within those doomed 
walls. The anguished mother entreated some one to 


HIS CHOICE. 


109 


save her baby. But they said it was mad folly ; that 
none could enter ; that there was no hope. 

^‘What mother could listen to such words? She 
broke away from those who would have detained her, 
and rushed within those burning walls. They thought 
she had gone to inevitable death. But mother-love 
lent strength and speed and skill to the weak woman. 
She reached her child. She tore a blanket from the 
bed, in which she completely enveloped its little form ; 
and, with her precious burden strained close to her 
bosom, she fled through the flames. 

She escaped with her life, and her baby was safe. 

> 

But what a wreck was the apparently lifeless form 
which fell to the ground as soon as she had reached a 
place of safety ! Burned, disfigured, blind was the 
mother who had risked her life for her child. 

Years passed. The baby grew to. womanhood, 
the mother on to old age. The scars of the burns 
were too deep for time to remove their traces, and her 
eyes were still sightless. 

Should you not have thought that every one of 
those scars, which might indeed appear as disfigure- 
ments to indifferent eyes, would have been to the 


110 


HIS CHOICE. 


daughter, who at such a terrible sacrifice had beea 
saved from death, marks of absolute beauty, because 
they revealed the depths of a pure and unselfish 
devotion to herself? 

^‘But they were not. That daughter when, after, 
her marriage to a wealthy man, she entered into gay 
and fashionable society, forgot the self sacrifice, forgot 
the love, and had no room in her life- for her mother. 
She had no time to be eyes for the poor blind ones, 
which had become blind through love of her. 

“ When company called in the parlor, the mother 
sat alone in her room ; and if they stayed to dinner, 
her solitary meal was sent up to be eaten there, where 
no one would see her, and her scars and her helpless- 
ness. And so the daughter’s shame and neglect grew 
more and more apparent, until the mother’s sad life 
grew to be a burden, and she would gladly have wel- 
comed her release from earth. 

My friends, what kind of a heart do you think 
that girl must have possessed? I can almost hear 
your answer, as I read it in many faces : ^ Ingrate !’ 
^Wicked!’ ^Base!’ ^Tlie very heart of ingrati- 
tude and selfishness.’ 


HIS CHOICE. 


Ill 


Yes, yes, all that is true. But what kind of a 
heart do you possess, that you are ashamed of Jesus? 
What kind of a heart do you possess, that you neg- 
lect him still? Did that mother do more for her 
child than he has done for you? You accuse her of 
ingratitude, when your conduct is no better. What 
kind of a heart must it be which still refuses Jesus? 
‘ How can we escape, if we neglect so great salva- 
tion?’’^ 

Much more followed, and at length the minister 
closed with a very affectionate and earnest appeal.* 
What will you do with this Jesus which is called 
the Christ ? He stands at the door of your hearts 
to-night, awaiting your decision. Will jou choose 
Christ? or will you choose the world, which will 
prove a robber indeed — robbing you of the priceless 
gift of life eternal ? ” 

Rob Senderling walked home with Reba Ashwood 
that night after church. They were deep in their 
own thoughts. Reba had never been so deeply 
aroused in all her life. She had always known, in a 
general way, that all were sinners, and, of course, she 


112 


HIS CHOICE. 


could not consider herself as an exception ; but that 
any personal responsibility rested upon her, or that 
neglect of the subject came from the sinfulness of her 
own heart, had never occurred to her. We know 
many things, in a general, abstract sort of a way, the 
personal application of which proves startling to our 
minds. Reba was beginning to think in this closer, 
personal way, as the two walked slowly homeward 
this winter’s night. 

Rob Senderling was thinking too. He recalled all 
thaf Paul Elverton had said that day a half year ago. 

What a fool I have been ! ” he thought to him- 
self. took Paul’s advice in regard to the less 
important matter, and found it to work well. Yet I 
have neglected it in higher things. What a wicked, 
ungrateful fellow - I have been ! I have sinned 
against light. I have always known how lost I was, 
and the way of salvation. Father has been praying 
for me too ! And mother ” 

Rob felt a great lump rising in his throat, and he 
was glad it was dark where they were walking just at 
that moment. The memory of Rob’s mother was 
very sacred to him. 


CHAPTER XI. 

eeba’s self-imposed burdens. 

^ ^ ^ OB,” said Reba, when they stood for a moment 
at her door, feel as if I had reached the 
point when I must choose, and my choice must be for 
life.” 

Rob cleared his throat before he answered ; 

^‘1 feel a good deal the same, Reba. IVe been 
thinking of this matter for the past six months. 
Paul Elverton and I had a long talk one day about 
choosing, and the result of neglecting 'to choose. 
Paul is a sensible fellow; I followed his advice part 
way, and I mean now to follow it fully, if God will 
help me.” 

I never thought about my being a sinner before ; 
in fact, I have considered myself a pretty good sort 
of a person, and I have despised ingratitude above 
all sins. But to-night I saw myself differently. Do 
you think Christ can forgive so long neglect ? ” asked 
Reba, very seriously. 


H 


113 


114 


HIS CHOICE. 


IVe been thinking of this also. But yours was 
only thoughtlessness, while mine was willful neglect. 
But, Beba, my father has been praying for me. He 
would not have done that if there had been no hope. 
I believe Christ will save us yet. Good-night, Beba.” 

So they parted, each to think it over, and pray 
about it alone. And in his own good way the Lord 
led them both to himself. 

Walking homeward that evening, Nora shrugged 
her pretty shoulders, and looked up at Clayton, and 
asked if he didn’t ‘‘ think that girl the minister told 
about was just horrid.” 

And he looked down at her, and replied : 

“ Yes, and I don’t like horrid girls at all ; I only 
like sweet, pretty ones,” while a little pressure of the 
small gloved hand which lay on his arm, told her 
what sweet, pretty girl he was thinking about then, 
and liked best of all. 

He then looked up in the sky, and pointed out two 
or three stars and constellations, whose names he had 
studied up for this especial occasion, and he was 
gratified with her admiration for his vast knowledge. 


HIS CHOICE. 


115 


So the walk homeward to them, if not profitable, 
was exceedingly pleasant according to their ways of 
thinking. 

Paul Elverton and Edith Hendry were coming 
home from church together just behind them. They, 
too, had discussed the sermon from their own stand- 
point, and Edith had said : 

“ Do you know, Paul, Pve been thinking a good 
deal lately about the power of personal prayer. Pray- 
ing, I mean, for some individual, instead of general- 
izing, as we are too prone to do. For more than two 
months now I have been praying for Reba Ash wood. 
I have tried to engage her in serious conversation sev- 
eral times, but it always seemed to be a subject to 
which she has given no thought. I watched her to- 
night, however, and I think she was deeply moved.” 

I do not see how any one who had not already 
decided for Christ could help deciding to-night,” an- 
swered Paul. I have been praying especially during 
the last six mouths for Rob Senderling, and from his 
expression to-night I have a hope that God is going 
to use this sermon to answer my prayers. But, 
whether your prayer or mine is to be answered at 


116 


HIS CHOICE. 


once or not, let us not grow wearj. It will be an- 
swered, I am sure, in God’s best time.” 

Edith was not surprised to learn, when next she 
met her friend E,eba Ash wood, that her face was 
turned heavenward.” 

Eeba never did anything by halves. She entered 
into this new life with all the zeal which was charac- 
teristic of her nature. She spoke freely of her own 
sinfulness, and of her entire reliance upon Christ as 
her Saviour. 

But Edith was very much surprised at what she 
said next : 

I’ve given up all my old employments now. I 
wrote this morning to dismiss my music-teacher, and 
when you came in, I was collecting all my manuscripts 
to be burned.” 

^^But, really, Keba, you will not give up your 
music ? ” Edith asked. 

^^I certainly shall!” replied Keba, with much 
decision. 

Think of the money and time that have been 
spent on your musical education, Keba. If you give 
it up entirely, that will all be wasted. Of course, 


HIS CHOICE. 


117 


your aim now will be different from what it was be- 
fore ; but you must not think of giving up music, your 
especial talent.’^ 

Wasted — that is what it has been ; but now that 
my eyes are opened, I cannot think of adding any 
more to that account. I shall give it up entirely, and 
writing too.’^ 

But why, Reba ? I cannot see what has led you 
to this resolve.” 

I cannot think of wasting any more time and 
money in that way. Life holds more important 
duties now,” Reba answered, somewhat loftily. 

Edith did not’ answer immediately. She was a 
Christian, but she took music lessons and practiced 
daily. Her father and mother were Christians, ex- 
ceedingly practical ones too; and it was by their 
advice, and in accordance with their wishes, that she 
did so. Was it possible that they and she had never 
given the subject sufficiently careful consideration ? 

But she remembered many times when her father 
or mother, wearied with the day’s business conflicts and 
trials, had asked her to sing or play a certain piece, and 
the genuine pleasure with which they thanked her; she 


118 


HIS CHOICE. 


remembered a hymn that she had sung to old Mrs. 
Blumm one day, how she had turned away her head, 
and afterward said, in a tremulous tone ; My mother 
used to sing that when I was a little girl.’’ i\nd 
once, when the minister had called and asked her to 
play, she had chosen a sweet, soft reverie. When she 
rose from the piano, he had said : 

“ I often rejoice to think how much music there 
will be in heaven — don’t you ? ” 

She had thought of these words frequently, as she 
sat at the piano, and had played with a glad joy in 
her heart. 

No, no ; music could not be a pleasure forbidden 
because she was a Christian. Being a Christian 
seemed to give her an added right to enjoy it, since 
only such would know its harmony forever. 

Eeba watched the sober face for several moments. 
Though she could not know these thoughts, she read 
there that her reply had not been satisfactory. 

“Well?” she said, presently. “You don’t think 
r am right?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“ What then ? ” 


HIS CHOICE. 


119 


“If, as you say, all your thoughts in studying 
music have been vain and selfish, you ought to leave 
those out now, but use your music in a better way,” 
she said, thoughtfully. 

“ One of the things I never can be, Edith Hendry, 
is a half-way Christian ; that is not my nature. If I 
am going to serve the Lord, I must do it wholly, or 
not at all ; and, therefore, I must give up my music 
and writing, and all my old vain aspirations,” she 
said again, with more energy than the case seemed to 
require, unless, indeed, energy was to take the place 
of sound reasoning. Edith’s voice and manner were 
still very quiet and thoughtful. 

“ But, honestly,” said Edith, “ there is a difference 
between giving up a talent that God has given you, 
and giving up the vain aspirations you may hitherto 
have indulged in regard to it. You must not give up 
your music, or your writing, either. You must use 
them for him. What do your father and mother say 
about this idea ? ” 

“ Oh, they were almost angry when I first an- 
nounced my intention. They said it was ungrateful 
to them, and used all sorts of arguments to try and 


120 


HIS CHOICE. 


dissuade me from my purpose. But must obey 
God rather than man/ ” added Beba, firmly, with 
somewhat the air of a would-be martyr. 

If you can bring me any command of God which 
even remotely suggests any such duty, Fll give up/’ 
said Edith. “ But I really think you are very much 
mistaken. Do you propose to give up music in heaven, 
too?^^ 

That is very different ! Do not try to dissuade 
me, Edith ; for my mind is fully made up, and my de- 
termination is founded upon what I believe to be duty.’’ 

And Reba stood by this determination. 

Not long after this Beba made up her mind ” to 
something else. 

She was reading in her Bible about David’s pur- 
chase of the threshing floor from Araunah, and how 
he had said, I will surely buy it of thee at a 2>rice, 
neither will I offer burnt offerings unto the Lord my 
God of that which doth cost me nothing,” when sud- 
denly a thought came to her with startling and un- 
pleasant force. It was that she had never yet given 
to Christ or his cause anything that had been a real 
cost to herself. 


HIS CHOICE. 


121 


It seemed to her at the time that there was nothing 
in the realm of Christian diity to give, except money. 
Didn’t David pay for the threshing floor with shekels 
of gold? 

Her father supplied her unstintingly with whatever 
she asked ; what she had given had been his money 
rather than her own. She felt shocked at this, and at 
once resolved to give that which would cost her indi- 
vidually something. 

But how ? 

It had never before entered Reba Ashwood’s head 
to try to earn money ; and now that she decided that 
it was a Christian duty to earn something, she did not 
know where to begin to look for the means. 

We do not say that it was a Christian duty on her 
part. The Lord does not call upon all to work in 
the same way. It might be another person’s duty 
without being hers ; and if she had looked aright, she 
might have readily found other ways of giving that 
cost her something. 

Reba thought of turning her music, or her pen to 
account, but she resolutely repelled such an idea as a 
temptation. She told herself that she had given them 


122 


HIS CHOICE. 


both up for the Lord. She would not be like that 
unworthy servant who, having put his hand to the 
plough, had looked back. 

Besides, she felt that she ‘^needed a harsher disci- 
pline to bring down her pride, and teach her a lesson 
that she would not forget in the future.” 

The matter troubled her greatly, until she heard 
of a poor woman who was supporting herself and 
family by making vests at twelve cents apiece, for a 
large clothing house in the city. That she considered 
sufficiently hard, and sufficiently distasteful work to 
satisfy her conscience. So she forthwith took some in- 
structions from this woman, obtained a dozen vests, 
and set herself about the unaccustomed task of making 
them. 

All the zeal that had ever been put into music and 
writing and painting, now centred upon vest making ; 
and she was on her fourth dozen, when Edith came in 
one day and found her thus engaged. 

Why, Reba Ash wood, what are you doing ? ” she 
asked, in surprise. 

Don’t you see what I am doing? I am making 
vests.” 


HIS CHOICE. 


123 


Yes, I see that ; but what for ? ” 

To earn money, to be sure — what else ? There is 
no especial fun in it, I assure you.’’ 

Edith looked puzzled. She had not heard of any 
change in the financial affairs of Mr. Ash wood ; but 
what else could make Reba stitch away upon under- 
paid vests until she was pale and tired ? She was hold- 
ing her side, which ached sadly from the steady sew- 
ing, to which she was altogether unused. 

Reba guessed her friend’s thought, and answered it. 
Oh, no ! Father has not failed. I am earning 
money from choice. In fact, I almost had to quarrel 
with him and mother before they would consent at all. 
But I feel it to be a duty to earn the money I give to 
the Lord’s cause. David would not give that which 
cost him Clothing — and I won’t, either.” 

The puzzled look changed to one of disapprobation. 
Your ideas of duty differ somewhat from mine. I 
can imagine no circumstances under which it is a girl’s 
duty to * almost quarrel’ with her parents,” said Edith. 

But, as they are not Christians, of course they 
could not be expected to look upon matters of duty as I 
do,” replied Reba, as she started the sewing-machine. 


124 


HIS CHOICE. 


which hummed so. noisily that her friend had no 
opportunity to reply until the end of the seam was 
reached. Even then she had to speak quicklyj lest 
her voice be lost again in the next seam. 

I don’t see how you can ever hope to win them by 
the course you are at present pursuing/’ said Edith. 

Two or three more seams were stitched, and then 
Reba being now ready to baste and prepare some 
portion of the work, turned round to her friend. 

It would be a poor way to try to win them by 
violating my own conscience,” she remarked, as she 
placed her hand on her aching side again, and drew a 
long, tired breath. 

^^Reba Ashwood, you are really sick now; leave 
this work and come and take a walk with me.” 

Edith attempted to draw the work from her hands, 
and for a second the weary girl almost let it go ; but 
then she reached out after it again, as she replied, 
firmly : 

No, I promised the Lord that I would give of my 
own earnings, at the mission circle on Thursday night, 
one dollar and forty-four cents, for the cause of mis- 
sions in the far West, and I must do it. Really, I 


HIS CHOICE. 


125 


don’t see why everybody joins together to make my 
Christian life, and the performance of what I feel to 
be my duty, so hard. It isn’t kind in you, Edith — 
indeed, it is not. I have a right to expect help and 
encouragement from you, as I cannot look for it from 
my family, none of whom profess to be Christians.” 

The over-tired body and over-wrought nerves were 
almost giving way. There was a plaintive note in the 
weary voice, and a teardrop glistened in the eyes that 
never used to be circled, as they were to-day, by dark, 
shadowy lines. The lips, too, trembled piteously, in 
a manner very unlike their usual firm expression. 

Edith rose and knelt before Jier friend on a low 
footstool, wound both arms around her, and drew the 
tired head down to a resting-place upon her own 
shoulder. 

‘^Indeed, Reba, I do not want to make your Chris- 
tian duty harder; it is only that I cannot see this to 
be duty. You have taken up burdens that God never 
meant for you, and you will make yourself sick, Reba. 
Indeed, you are almost so already, and we have no right 
to injure our bodies. If you really want to earn 
money for the Lord, why not do it by using the special 


126 


HIS CHOICE. 


talent the Lord has given you, and giving music 
lessons ? 

Edith was right. Reba was sick already, otherwise 
she would hardly have given way to the tears which 
she had kept back so long. Upon her friend’s shoul- 
der she had a hearty cry ; but she choked back the 
tears as well as she could, as if it were wrong for her 
to listen to the last suggestion. 

Don’t, Edith ; don’t tempt me in that way. I have 
given that up, I tell you. I shall never play any 
more. Please, please do not suggest such a thing.” 

She raised her head and held her temples with both 
hands. 

You can’t work any more at present, at any rate. 
You must rest your head and eyes and side. Come, 
I am going to take you for a walk, whether you want 
to go or not.” 

Edith spoke with playful authority, and Reba no 
longer resisted. She bathed her face and eyes while 
Edith brought out her hat and wrap. 


CHAPTER XII. 


A VISIT TO MBS. BLUMM. 

TT was a clear, bright afternoon in March. The air 
held a suggestion of coming spring, and the sun- 
shine was pleasant to feel and to look upon. It was 
such a day as we look for occasionally in April, but 
which sometimes comes to gladden our hearts a month 
in advance. 

Reba enjoyed the day even more than Edith ; for 
she had been used to so free a life, that she had been 
pining for the fresh air more than she herself realized. 

At first there was not much said by either. They 
only walked arm in arm and enjoyed the scene and 
the clear, bright day. When they had gone some 
distance, Edith said : 

“ I want to go to see old Mrs. Blumm. It is not a 
very pleasant place to call, I know. Would you mind 
going with me, Reba ? ” 

Edith’s reason for proposing this visit was to take 

Reba’s thoughts away from herself and her own 

127 


128 


HIS CHOICE. 


doings ; and, as that young lady had no special aim in 
her walk, she did not offer the least objection, though 
she had no idea who Mrs. Blumm was. 

Mrs. Blumm was better in health. Probably she 
would never be strong again, but she was sitting up, 
doing some coarse sewing. 

E-eba wondered much why Edith could be so in- 
terested in the making of children’s gingham aprons. 
She knew nothing about the workings of the Friendly 
Aid Society, though she remembered that her mother 
contributed yearly to a society bearing a name some- 
thing like ihat. Mrs. Blumm was paid for making 
these aprons, partly that they might be used in their 
work of charity, but mainly in order to provide the 
woman with work, for which the Aid could pay her. 
It .was a rule to help people to help themselves, if it 
was possible, rather than to aid them in idleness. 

After Edith had made some inquiries, and given 
some directions about the work, she read a chapter 
from the Bible ; and then, although she knew her 
voice had neither the cultivation, nor the strength and 
beauty of Eeba’s, she sang a sweet hymn in her own 
simple, unaffected manner. 



Page 128. 


His Clioice 







129 


HIS CHOICE. 

Mrs. Blumm was not so ungrateful as upon a former 
occasion. She thanked Edith for the reading, and 
again for the hymn; she even found it possible to 
smile over some of the girl’s bright remarks. And 
when they left, her invitation to call again was really 
very earnest. 

Still, even with this improvement, Edith had 
said truly it was not a pleasant place to visit ; 
and when they were fairly on the street again, Reba 
asked : 

Why do you go there, Edith ? Certainly, she is 
nothing to you ? ” ' 

Why do you send money to the heathen ? Cer- 
tainly, they are nothing to you ? ” asked Edith, in- 
stead of an answer. 

^^Oh, but that is different ! ” 

Yes, and no,” replied Edith. “Mrs. Blumm is 
nothing to me in the personal sense in which you 
meant. But she is one of God’s creatures ; so she ought 
to be something to me.” 

“You certainly can’t find any pleasure in going 
there,” remarked Reba. 

“Yes I do — the pleasure of duty performed for 


130 


HIS CHOICE. 


God. Do you find any special pleasure in the making 
of those vests ? ” asked Edith. 

That is different/^ replied Reba, as she compressed 
her lips firmly and looked straight before her into the 
beautiful sunshine. It is right for me to give what 
costs me something ; and I must do right, whether it 
is a pleasure or not.’^ 

And it is right for me to give what costs me some- 
thing too. In itself it is not a pleasure for me to go 
to see Mrs. Blumm ; she is not congenial, and her 
surroundings are not altogether pleasant. To go there 
I must give time and patience, and nearly always 
forego other pleasures. Still, I gladly give them ; 
and, as I said before, I have the joy of duty performed 
for my Saviour.^’ 

Time and patience and self-denial ! Why, these 
were things that Reba Ash wood had never once 
thought of giving to the Lord. She had thought of 
nothing that could be given but money. 

She had, it is true, been giving time and strength 
and patience (and a good deal of impatience too) ; but, 
after all, she had not been giving them to the Lord, 


HIS CHOICE. 


131 


her giving; and really she had been giving it to her 
own perversity. 

She was not convinced by her friend^s words that 
money was not in reality the thing to be given. She 
said something to that effect presently. 

“ I will tell you how I look at it/’ Edith replied. 
‘‘ I think the Lord requires us to give of what we 
have, and not of what we have not. He has given me 
the stewardship of but a limited amount of money, 
and I try to use it for him.” Edith referred to the 
allowance given her monthly by her father. But he 
has given me other things — my life, to make the best 
use of for him that I can; that includes time, patience, 
strength, love, helpfulness, money — all that I have. I 
should not feel that it was right to cross the will of 
my parents, and work myself sick to get more of 
something that God has not seen fit to give me the 
control of; so doing, I might neglect these other 
things he has given me. 

Paul once wrote to Timothy — the verse is written 
on the fly-leaf of my Bible, and I am glad it is, so I 
can never forget it — ‘ Neglect not the gift that is in 
thee.’ He does not say, ^Neglect not the gift that is 


132 


HIS CHOICE. 


in thy brother/ or ^ the gift that I have given to thy 
neighbor/ but Hn thee.^ Timothy’s own personal 
responsibility was with his own personal gift. So far 
as money is concerned, I know that father conscien- 
tiously devotes to the cause of Christ a tithe of his 
income ; and as my smaller amount has less demands 
upon it, I can give a larger proportion. While I 
rejoice to do this, I do not feel that money is peculiarly 
the gift with which I am entrusted. I am grateful to 
papa that his energy and business ability have placed 
me in a position where I can have so much of my time 
for others.” 

^^We look at things somewhat differently,” was 
the only answer Eeba made, as she sighed rather 
wearily. 

They had reached the principal business street again, 
and were now leisurely walking among its hurried, 
bustling throng. 

I want to get some Saxony wool for mamma, at 
Garmon & Senderling’s,” said Edith, as they drew 
nearer the handsomest store in the street. 

Rob Senderling happened not to be in the store, and 
Edith remarked; 


HIS CHOICE. 133 

I wonder where Kob is to-day ? I understand he 
is doing himself credit here.’^ 

Keba could not help flushing with pleasure at the 
praise of her friend, but she simply glanced over at 
the place where he was not, and said she did not know 
why he was absent. 

They bought the wool, and turned to leave the 
store, when Rob himself met them. 

“ Give an account of yourself, sir,’’ demanded Edith, 
with playful authority. Why are you not at your 
post of duty ? ” And she pointed back toward his 
counter. 

At your service, ma’am,” replied Rob, with a pro- 
found bow. If you please, that is exactly where I 
am.” 

Why, how is that?” asked both girls, in surprise. 

Perhaps you have not heard that the firm met 
with a loss a few weeks ago, in the death abroad of 
one of their most trusted buyers. His place had to 
be filled, and this necessitates a number of changes. 
Among other things, the head of our department was 
advanced along the line, and I have been given his 
position.” 


134 


HIS CHOICE. 


“I thought perhaps you were going to say they 
would send you to London and Paris and Germany, to 
buy for the firm ? ” said Reba, half teasingly. 

‘‘Not yet. I have two or three things to learn 
before I could do that — and you didn’t think so, 
either,” Rob replied, looking down in the face that the 
walk had wonderfully brightened. 

Edith looked up into the frank, determined face, as 
she remarked : 

“ But you are very young to be at the head of a 
department in a store like this?” 

“ I know it,” replied Rob. “ And father and Mr. 
Garmon hesitated to give me the position on that very 
account. But ” 

Rob suddenly stopped. Perhaps he thought what 
he was about to say would sound egotistical ; or per- 
haps it was really the remembrance of an errand that 
made him leave his sentence unfinished, and look hur- 
riedly at his watch. 

“I have an errand to do for father at the bank be- 
fore it closes. If you have finished your purchases, 
and will allow me, I will walk down the street with 
you,” he said. 


HIS CHOICE. 


135 


On their way down, he resumed, if not the former 
sentence, at least the former thought. 

ni tell you what it is, girls, I am perfectly aston- 
ished at the way many clerks work. They try to get 
along the easiest way they can, and seem to imagine 
that if they know the color and price of a piece of 
goods, that is all. They put no heart in what they 
are doing, and do not fit themselves for anything else, 
and then are grieved when higher positions are given 
to tlieir neighbor. 

I am not at all sure,” confessed the young business 
man, but I should have done the same, if it had not 
been for a long talk I had one day with Paul Elver- 
ton. I shall never forget his pointing out a poor, old, 
forlorn looking ragpicker, and saying, if we should 
ask him, we should certainly find that he was in his 
present pitiable condition, not because he had chosen 
it, but because he had not absolutely chosen anything 
higher. I made up my mind then, that whatever 
position I occupied, I would fit myself for the one 
above it. With God’s help, I have conscientiously 
kept that resolution. It meant work — and I have 
worked* hard. But I am repaid to-day. Any other 


136 HIS CHOICE. 

clerk in that department might have been at its head 
to-day, if he had chosen to fit himself.’’ 

I am glad for you, Rob,” said Edith, holding out 
her hand in congratulation, and her face and voice and 
manner re-echoed her words. 

‘‘You remind me of what somebody has said, 
though I confess I have forgotten his name : ‘ ’Tis not 
in mortals to command success ; but we’ll do more — 
deserve it, ” said Reba. 

“ I mean to do my best to deserve it,” replied Rob, 
as he looked straight into Reba’s eyes. “ Then, if the 
Lord does not send it to me, it will be because I cannot 
serve him best so.” 

They had reached the bank, and Rob lifted his hat 
and lightly ran up the stone steps before the fine old 
building. 

The girls watched him until he had disappeared 
within the doors, one with a frank, proud look upon 
her face — for Edith Hendry was proud to number 
Rob Senderling among her friends — and the other 
with a tender light, that was very pleasant to see in 
those clear eyes. 











SfMVUER 


His Ciioice 


Page 136, 




CHAPTER XIII. 

REBA OBTAINS CLEARER VIEWS OF THE TRUTH. 

*pEBA ASH WOOD finished the last dozen vests, 
and gave the one dollar and forty-four cents of 
hard-earned money to the mission circle on Thursday 
night; but somehow the joy that she had expected 
to find in this giving what had cost her so much 
sacrifice was missing. 

Her parent’s opposition, instead of lessening, had 
increased as the days wore on, and she knew she had 
disregarded their wishes. Not only this, but memory 
recalled more than one impatient, willful, unchristian 
word that she had spoken, and much of thoughtless 
neglect of the wants and feelings of others which 
she had shown while she had been thus employed. 
And the question came, Had her motive been alto- 
gether pure? Was she really as anxious to make a 
sacrifice for God as to let those around her know 
and reali2:e her zeal? 

She meant to kill vanity and selfish aspirations 

137 


138 


HIS CHOICE. 


with one fell blow when she gave up music and 
painting and writing. She had thought of these 
as the only forms her besetting sin could assume, 
and had not yet learned how deceitful the human 
heart can be. 

She was only beginning to question herself, as she 
sat by the side of Edith -Hendry in the missionary 
meeting. 

Edith seemed very happy. She had not given as 
much money into the treasury as had her neighbor, 
but all through the fortnight since the last meeting, 
she, like the widow whom the Saviour commended, 
had been giving ‘^of her living” into that larger 
treasury of her Lord, in whose sight money is but 
a single item. 

Edith, it is true, never had the temptation to 
vanity that had beset her friend. The gifts that 
had been entrusted to her were neither rare nor 
brilliant. She felt that she had nothing in the 
w^orld to be proud of. 

Eeba did not feel proud to-night. She felt, on 
the contrary, very miserable; for conscience would 
not be quiet. And when Eeba was not on the 


HIS CHOICE. 


139 


mountain top, she would most likely be away 
down in the valley; she seldom rested between. 

She was glad when, the meeting was over. She 
had frequently heard it said that, when one works 
for an object, one’s interest in it increases wonderfully. 
She had told herself that she had been working for 
the poor, benighted heathen, and she had expected to 
take the deepest possible interest in all the details of 
this meeting. But in this she was disappointed ; and 
this was only natural, for she had not in reality been 
working for the heathen ; she had been working for 
herself. 

But, glad as she was when the meeting was dis- 
missed, she was not glad when she entered the hall 
of her own home to hear the sound of gay voices 
issuing from the parlor. 

She wished to escape immediately to her room; 
but the drapery of the door leading toward the 
hall was drawn aside, and her brother sat just 
where he could see her, and he spoke to her; so 
she was obliged to enter that merry circle of 
friends. 

Two of them were distant relations, and particu- 


140 


HIS CHOICE. 


larly fine singers. Her arrival was hailed with 
delight, and music was immediately called for. 

Reba looked annoyed beyond measure. 

Her refusal to play was received with astonishment. 
E-eba Ash wood had always been so ready, and so 
pleased to gratify her friends in this way, that it was 
entirely unlooked for. 

I have given up music entirely,” she said, with a 
weary little sigh. 

And taken up vestmakiug instead,” added her 
brother, provokingly. 

Reba flushed. It did not seem so praiseworthy 
to-day as it had yesterday. 

You surely are joking ! ” exclaimed one. 

“ What can you mean ? ” inquired another. 

But Reba was confused,^ and before she had time 
to make the least explanation, her brother volunteered 
one for her. 

“ Oh, you didn’t know that our Reba has become 
religious of late ? ” he said. Well, she has, and 
you remember when she gets a disease she always 
frightens the whole family half to death over it ; but 
she always pulls through somehow or another, and 


HIS CHOICE. 141 

we still have some hope that when this fever has its 
run, she’ll get over this too.” 

Poor Reba’s face flushed painfully. She had no 
opportunity to speak, though, for Charlie’s presenta- 
tion of the matter was greeted with much merriment ; 
albeit they were ready enough to take up her defence. 

That is positively too bad in you, Charlie Ash- 
wood ! ” remarked one. 

You ought to be ashamed of yourself to speak in 
such a manner ! ” said another. 

Come, Reba, to prove him false, come and play 
for us,” urged a third. 

Reba shook her head. 

‘‘ I cannot play now,” she repeated with 
difficulty. 

Reba, it strikes me you have carried this foolish- 
ness about far enough. I have spent hundreds of 
dollars, and you have spent days of time upon your 
musical education ; and I do not choose that you shall 
throw it away thus,” said her father, more sternly 
than she had ever known him to speak in his life. 

There were tears in Reba’s eyes now. She was 
very tired and nervous. Her recent dissatisfaction 


142 


HIS CHOICE. 


with herself, her brother’s taunt, her friend’s surprise, 
and her father’s stern displeasure, all combined to 
distress her. 

But close to Reba sat a sweet young Christian girl, 
the only Christian except Reba in this evening’s com- 
pany. She looked up into her flushed, troubled face, 
and asked, softly : 

‘^Did you ever think, Reba, how it must have 
sounded when Jesus stood up among his disciples in 
that upper room, before they went out into the gar- 
den of betrayal, and those twelve sang a hymn ? I 
imagine Jesus’ voice must have been clear and sweet, 
and thrilling above all the rest — don’t you ? ” 

Reba did not answer in words, but she Avas not 
wholly vain and selfish. She did love the Lord 
Jesus, and she did want to serve him. And the 
sound of his name, spoken low by this dear young 
girl, touched and thrilled a cord in her heart, which 
that name alone could have caused thus to vibrate. 

She pressed the hand that had sought hers in 
silence, then she crossed the room, and took her place 
at the piano. 

Reba did not play as well as usual. Her mind was 


HIS CHOICE. 


143 


much preoccupied. Still no one seemed to notice 
this. One after another called for their favorite 
selections, and Reba played on. 

Now, Reba, sing something alone,’^ was presently 
the request. 

Oh, I can’t, you must not ask me. You know I 
am all out of practice,” Reba urged, turning half 
around on the stool, as if she would rise. 

^^We will remember that fact, and take it into 
consideration in our criticism,” said her father, in a 
determined tone, which plainly spoke his desire for 
her to comply with the request. 

Yesterday she would have paid no heed to this, 
but now she turned back to the instrument again. 
She half reached out her hand toward a volume of 
bound music, containing many choice and difficult 
selections. But just then the words that had. so 
affected her a moment before, came to her mind. 

She dropped her hands in her lap, hopelessly, and 
her heart almost failed her. She could not sing any 
of those opera airs or sentimental ballads to-night, 
and she told herself that she knew nothing else. 

Come, Miss Reba; what are you going to sing ? 


144 


HIS CHOICE. 


Do you want any of these books ? ” asked a gentle- 
man' who stood near the music rack. 

No ; none of those,” she answered, looking hope- 
lessly along their number. Then, with a strong effort, 
she controlled herself, and struck the. chords of the 
piano firmly. Her selection, perhaps, would not meet 
with the approval of her gay audience; but at that 
moment she could not sing any of her old songs. 

She cleared her throat, and then, looking resolutely 
neither to the right nor to the left, she sang one of 
the simple hymns that she had heard so often at 
prayer meeting, and had sung it over to herself, until 
it had become perfectly familiar to her : 

“ In thy cleft, 0 Rock of Ages, 

Hide thou me ; 

When the fitful tempest rages. 

Hide thou me : 

Where no mortal arm can sever 

From my heart thy love forever, 

Hide me, 0 thou Rock of Ages, 

Safe in thee. 

From the snare of sinful pleasure 
Hide thou me ; 

Thou my soul’s eternal treasure, 

Hide thou me : 


HIS CHOICE. 


145 


When the world its power is wielding, 

And my he.art is almost yielding, 

Hide me, 0 thou Rock of Ages, 

Safe in thee. 

In the lonely night of sorrow. 

Hide thou me ; 

’Till in glory dawns the morrow, 

Hide thou me : 

In the sight of Jordan’s billow 

Let thy bosom be my pillow. 

Hide me, O thou Rock of Ages, 

Safe in thee. 

Her voice seemed to have lost none of its rich, 
full sweetness, and, unconsciously, she sang with a 
power she had never had before, for her heart was 
in the words. And, as she went on, slie seemed to 
sing strength and love and comfort into her own 
soul. 

Where, in this moment of trial, could she have 
found refuge except in Jesus ? She realized all the 
beauty and power of those words as she never had 
dreamed of before. 

She felt stronger and calmer when she had finished, 

and a sweet, restful sense of the conscious approval 

of her Lord, to which she had been a stranger for 
K 


146 


HIS CHOICE. 


many a day, possessed her soul. Perhaps this was 
the first act since the day of her baptism which she 
had performed without a single thought of self in it, 
and with the pure and unmingled motive of pleasing 
Jesus, her Lord. 

She had told herself that she would be pleasing 
him by giving up her music; did he want her to 
use it for him instead? She had told herself that 
she would be pleasing him by “going out of her way 
and taking up burdens he had not given her”; but 
did he want, instead, the simple service of her time ? 

Reba had now the beginnings of a good many 
lessons. She would have to study them out in 
future days. 


CHAPTER XIY. 


DEATH IN TWO HOMES. 



EARLY a year had taken its rapid flight. A 


year during which Reba had been learning the 
lessons, the beginning of which we have hinted at ; a 
year in which Edith had been striving not to neglect 
her gift, and not to forget her benefits ; and a year 
in which Nora had been pursuing her one object of 
pleasure. 

It was a year during which Rob Senderliug was 
learning all he could in his present position, and 
fitting himself to be ready again to step upward 
whenever a call might come; and meanwhile he was 
winning golden opinions from all sorts of people. 

During this year, Paul Elverton was doing faith- 
ful work at the medical college, preparing for what 
he felt to be his great life work, and conscientiously 
using every faculty to the best possible advantage. 

Clayton Carmon, during this year, was having a 
^^good, easy time,’’ sometimes attending lectures and 


147 


148 


HIS CHOICE. 


sometimes not, answering Nora’s long letters with 
others just as long, and telling Paul Elverton, when 
they occasionally met, that ‘^all work and no play • 
would make Jack a dull boy.” 

At the end of that year the death angel came upon 
the self-same night into two of the homes with which 
we have become acquainted. 

One whom he claimed was Mr. Garmon, the senior 
member of the firm of Garmon & Sehderling. In his 
beautiful, luxurious chamber, this man of the world 
lay dying. 

He had been ill for several weeks, but not until this 
very day had he any other idea than that he should 
soon recover his former health. 

This man, whose arguments were perfectly sound 
upon a business basis ; who foresaw ruin in procrasti- 
nation and absolute failure in indecision, never thought 
of applying the same argument to an infinitely higher 
sphere. So now he had come to within a few hours 
of his entrance into the life beyond, and he had con- 
stantly put off all preparation for that solemn hour. 

His wife could not say one word to comfort him. 
She knew nothing of the only source of comfort herself. 


HIS CHOICE. 


149 


Clayton had been summoned home from the city, 
but it was useless to look to him for comfort, or any- 
thin£, else. 

Mr. Senderling had called upon his partner a num- 
ber of times during his illness. He was not the mau 
to wait until his friend was upon a dying-bed before 
he spoke to him of his souPs needs. He had often 
and earnestly spoken of this during the years of their 
business partnership; but Mr. Garmon had always 
referred the matter to the future. And when, during 
his visits to his sick chamber, he had endeavored to 
urge the subject, Mr. Garmon spoke of the prospect 
of recovery, and saw no occasion for haste in the 
matter. 

He sent for his friend now when he learned the 
dreadful truth. What would he not have given then 
to have gone back over the years of his life! But it 
was too late for that now. Too late. 

Mr. Senderling came at once. He talked and prayed 
with the dying man ; but his body was weakened by 
disease, and his mind almost paralyzed by the near 
approach of a change for which he was so little pre- 
pared. There could be but little satisfaction now. 


150 


HIS CHOICE. 


The other home, to which the messenger of death 
came that night, was a very humble one — a striking 
contrast to Mr. Garmon’s. And the scene enacted 
there was a contrast too. 

On her poor bed lay old Mrs. Blumm. On one 
side sat Barbara and her husband (for she had mar- 
ried, as her mother foresaw), and on the other was 
Edith Hendry. 

Many a night, of late, Edith had watched by that 
sick bed ; many a word of comfort had she whispered 
to the traveler who was going down into the dark 
valley of death. Many a word of sympathy had she 
spoken to those who would remain after she liad gotie. 
Edith’s influence in this home since the day of her 
first visit can never be calculated or known upon 
earth. There will be very many revealings in the 
future, of which we little dream now. 

Through her influence the woman who had grown 
old in ingratitude and complainings had come to 
recognize the many benefits which the Lord bestowed 
on her, and both she and Barbara had finally been led 
to Christ. And now the mother shrank not as she 
came near to the cold wave of Jordan, and the daugh- 


HIS CHOICE. 


151 


ter looked forward into future days with nobler and 
higher purposes. 

Near midnight there was a slight movement from 
the bed, and the watchers rose and gathered nearer, 
conscious that the end could not be far away. The 
old, wrinkled hands moved feebly, as if feeling after 
something in the dark. Edith took one in her own 
soft, warm grasp. 

“ Is Jesus still near you?” she asked. 

“ Yes, child, yes. Oh ! who could face death with- 
out him ? ” 

Do you fear nothing ? ” 

Nothing. ‘The Lord is my shepherd^ — say that 
again. Miss Edith. I want to hear it again.” 

“‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. 
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures ; he lead- 
eth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul ; 
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his 
name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley 
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou 
art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me,’ ” 
repeated Edith, with slow and reverent accent. 

“ Yes, yes,” said the dying woman. “ ‘ In the val- 


152 


HIS CHOICE. 


ley oL the shadow of death/ ‘ they comfort me/ 
‘ fear no evil/. ^ thou art with me/ ^ they comfort me/ ” 
she whispered the broken sentences slowly. 

There was silence for several minutes, except for 
the sobs of Barbara. Presently Mrs. Blumm tight- 
ened her grasp on the small hand that still held hers. 

Miss Edilh/^ she said, and then paused. 

“ I am here, Mrs. Blumm, close beside you.’’ 

Yes, I know. I want to thank you again for all 
that you have done for a poor old woman. The love 
of the Lord Jesus sent you here. I can’t tell you as 
I ought, but lie has kept all the account, and some 
day he will say to you, ^ Ye have done it unto me.’ ” 

She spoke with difficulty, pausing several times ere 
she had I'eached the end. Edith leaned forward and 
stroked the old hand tenderly. 

I am only too glad to have done it for him,” she 
said, with tears glistening in her eyes. 

“Barb, Barb, child, don’t cry,” said Mrs. Blumm. 
“I can’t see your face ; let me have your hand.” 

Barbara took the other hand, and repressing her 
sobs as well as she could, she leaned her cheek against 
it, for she could not speak. 


HIS CHOICE. 


153 


Miss Edith, please sing,” the woman asked, 
presently. 

Edith with difficulty controlled her emotions suffi- 
ciently to do so, but she made the effort and succeeded. 
Very tenderly she sang that dear old hymn that has 
soothed many a pathway both in life and in the 
hour of death : 

‘ ‘ J esus, lover of my soul 

Ah, yes,” murmured the poor old woman, as 
Edith sang the second line, ^^1^11 be there soon — 
soon.” 

Those were the last words she spoke. When the 
hymn was finished, they thought she was asleep ; but 
it was the sleep of death. 

Four days later, at almost the same hour, the two 
bodies were carried out from the two homes, and laid 
in the same cemetery. One followed by many car- 
riages, and numerous friends and acquaintances ; the 
Other mourned by Barbara and her husband, and 
Edith Hendry, and followed by a very small proces- 
sion of friends and neighbors. 

But angels bore the soul of the poor woman to 
heaven, and the rich man died, and was buried.” 


CHAPTEE XV. 


THE MEDICAL COMMENCEMENT. 

rflHE young man who, at the Hallberg Academy 
commencement took the mathematical prize, 
was awarded one of the most important ones offered 
at the commencement of the medical college. The 
Academy of Music was crowded, and was bright with 
fair young faces and glowing flowers. Edith Hendry 
was, of course, one of the audience. But Nora Eead 
was not there ; for no one in whom she was interested 
was among the number of the graduates. 

Clayton Carmon, it is true, had entered the course 
at the same time Paul Elverton had, and had been 
attending nominally ever since. But, in college par- 
lance, Clayton Carmon flunked on examination ; 
in other words, he failed. 

■ Not the slightest surprise was expressed among his 
associates at this fact; indeed, a number of them, 
judging from the sort of work he had been doing for 

the past three years, had prophesied this result. 

164 


HIS CHOICE. 


155 


Clayton told his mother and Nora that unfair par- 
tiality had been shown, otherwise he would have been 
among the fii’st, and would have taken the first prizes 
and honors. They believed this and pitied poor 
Clayton accordingly. Of course, nobody with a grain 
of common sense agreed with them. 

‘‘Is Paul Elverton going to graduate?” inquired 
Mrs. Carmon. 

“ Oh, yes ! St. Paul is to graduate. The professors 
think Paul is perfection. They would manage to put 
him through if he couldn^t tell B from a bull’s foot. 
I suppose when he gets his parchment the goal of his 
ambition will be reached But I never could be so 
easily satisfied. Even if I had been fairly treated 
and allowed to graduate here, I should wish to 
go to Berlin to finish. I tell you Germany is the 
place if you want to know something about medi- 
cine.” 

“ Germany ! Oh, Clayton ! Germany is so far, 
so very far away!” exclaimed Nora; and the soft 
blue eyes that looked up at him said much more than 
her words. 

Clayton looked down at her, and said, smiling : 


156 


HIS CHOICE. 


“ Wouldn’t you like to travel, and see something of 
the world outside of our own little city ? ” 

It would cost a great deal to study medicine in 
Berlin, wouldn’t it ? ” asked Mrs. Garmon. 

I suppose it would. I have not inquired ; but the 
estate isn’t bankrupt yet, that I know of,” said Clay- 
ton, carelessly. 

‘^Oh, certainly not ! ” replied Mrs. Garmon, quickly. 

‘^And it was father’s wish that I should be thor- 
oughly equipped for my profession,” added Clayton. 
The time for him to have remembered this was 
through all the three years past. I suppose if I 
had spoken of it, he would have been willing for me 
to go to Germany in the first place. You remember 
what he said about my studying ? ” 

‘^Yes, yes, I remember perfectly; and most cer- 
tainly, if you wish to go there now to finish, you 
shall go. But we shall be very lonely without you, 
Clayton.” 

^^Oh, well, as for that, mother, you know I have 
been away most of the time for the last three years, so 
it will not make so much difference. Of course, the 
advantages there are far superior to those here ; and I 


HIS CHOICE. 


157 


know you will be willing to raalvo the sacrifice for my 
good.” 

most certainly, if you think it best. I don’t 
know anything about these matters, I always sup- 
posed the college you were attending was a most ex- 
cellent one ; and really I am surprised that your father 
should not have ascertained about it before he let you 
enter. But, if you say Germany is best, and you want 
to go there, of course, you must do so,” said his 
mother. 

It was presently decided that Clayton Garmon 
should go to the University at Berlin, to study medi- 
cine. 

Then it was decided that, before he went, he and 
Nora Bead should be married, and he would take her 
with him. Just how this was going to help him in 
his studies was not explained ; but those were the 
plans. 

Of course, there was to be a grand wedding at 
Nora’s home, and the Garmon residence was to be 
thrown open for their reception, after a four weeks’ 
wedding trip. 

They would spend two or three weeks at home, and 


158 


HIS CHOICE. 


then would sail for Germany; though by this time 
nearly all thought of the first object of their going 
thither had gradually faded from Clayton’s mind. 

In truth, the love cf study or desire for knowledge 
had never seriously influenced him ; and he had no 
more idea of hard work now than before. But there 
was the novelty and pleasure of travel, and he knew 
that his mother would supply him liberally with 
money — more liberally than his father, if living, 
would have thought proper. If he could get through, 
so much the better ; and if he did not, why it would 
not make much difference. To spend his father’s 
earnings was much more agreeable to him than to 
earn for himself. 

Before these arrangements were all made, Clayton 
suggested to his mother the propriety of withdrawing 
the Carmon share of the partnership from the firm of 
Carmon & Senderling, adding that it would be well 
to place it where it could be easily reached, if 
needed, and vaguely insinuating that it might be safer 
thus now that his father was no longer there to see to 
his share of the interest. 

Mrs. Carmon almost became hysterical at this hint. 


HIS CHOICE. 


159 


and said she had always supposed Mr. Senderling and 
E.ob to be very honest and trustworthy; she knew 
that had been the opinion of her late husband ; but, 
if Clayton really thought there was any danger, of 
course it had better be withdrawn. She had already 
found his father’s judgment to have been wrong in 
regard to the selection of a medical college, and it 
might be so in this matter too. 

Perhaps it would be well too, to have it where it 
could easily be obtained if wanted. Mrs. Garmon 
did not know anything about these matters, and did 
not even want to learn. She did not stop to reflect 
that Clayton knew if possible still less, nor did she 
perceive that the young man who, during all these 
years in which his wants had been generously sup- 
plied by his too-indulgent father, had never learned 
the value of money, was quietly adjusting matters so 
that the portion of his father’s estate which had been 
in his business, was now to be placed under his own 
very injudicious control ; for when withdrawn from 
the firm it was to be deposited in his name, and sub- 
ject to his order. 

There were railroad stocks and government bonds. 


160 


HIS CHOICE. 


and other sources of revenue which still maintained 
the home* establishment. Mrs. Carmon did not ask 
any questions. She merely took the money that her 
agents paid her, and imagined that the amounts that 
she sent regularly to Germany were quite sufficient 
to entirely support her son and his wife. 

That young man thought otherwise, and regu- 
larly drew upon the principal deposited in his name 
until that was exhausted. 

They were having a good and an easy time how- 
ever, and that was an important item to both of them. 

Before Clayton and his wife sailed for Germany, 
Paul Elverton entered upon his theological studies to 
complete his preparation for a medical missionary. 

Here, as before, he worked with a strong and 
determined will, and also with a consecrated purpose. 
He felt the importance of the work before him as 
only those can who have a deep and abiding realiza- 
tion of the value of human souls. Christ Jesus gave 
his life for the souls of men. Should we rest easy 
while there are those who never heard of this won- 
derful love ? 


HIS CHOICE. 


161 


Paul Elverton could not, and he earnestly prayed 
to be used by the Master in whatever way would best 
serve the interest of his kingdom. He thought he 
was honest in that prayer, but sometimes when we 
are brought face to face with the answers to our own 
prayers, we hardly recognize them, and are almost 
startled at them. 

Paul Elverton thought he understood exactly in 
what way he was to serve — as a medical missionary. 
But, after all, Paul might have been mistaken. 

Still, it was God^s plan that he should prepare for 
that life, and he was preparing conscientiously. 


li 


CHAPTER XYI. 


EEBA GOES TO ANOTHER EXTREME. 

R EBA ash wood was beginning to see that the 
Lord would have mercy, and not sacrifice, and 
that the hearty service of her time in the ways that 
he had put into her power was more acceptable than 
for her to devote that time to a task the Lord had not 
asked of her. She was beginning to learn the truth 
of what Edith had said about the command, Neglect 
not the gift that is in thee ; that it was her own gift 
that was committed to her charge, and not her neigh- 
bor’s ; and that while she verily thought within her- 
self,” as Paul once did of old, that she ought to do 
the will of God in one way, she might be neglecting, 
or even in fact opposing, God’s way. 

These lessons are not always easy to learn, and 
some natures are very like a pendulum ; when they 
cut loose from one error they are apt to swing away 
to the farthest point in the opposite direction. Reba’s 

nature was much of this kind. 

162 


HIS CHOICE. 


163 


Reba was honestly desirous to do what God 
required. She was not a little disturbed when she 
began to see her real motive and her serious error. 

Does God want my time ? she asked herself, 
honestly and very humbly. I was wrong. I must 
give my time to the cause of Christ, for that is one 
of the gifts he has entrusted to me, and I must not 
neglect it. I will study my Bible more ; I will think 
more, and make better use of my time.” 

She talked with Edith about this. 

You must help me,” she said. You must show 
me how to use my time for the Lord. You know 
my mother is not at all interested in charitable works, 
as your mother is. You must take me with you, and 
let me help you until I learn to go alone.” 

Edith consented gladly ; and many an hour of 
faithful though humble and unrecorded service these 
two girls gave to the Lord. 

Often it was only a trifling act of kindness or 
thoughtfulness; sometimes for the poor, and some- 
times for the members of their own families. It 
took Reba longer to learn this last duty ; but, gradu- 
ally, she was learning that too. 


J64 


HIS CHOICE. 


While learning these things, Reba, as already inti- 
mated, was going to another extreme. She said : 

“ The Lord requires my time. T cannot, therefore, 
waste precious time over frizzes and pretty puffs, and 
smooth braids. There are more important duties in 
a Christian’s life ; these things are not essential.” 

Consequently, a torn braid, or a loose shoe button 
did not receive prompt attention — she had not time 
for them. Her hair was no longer kept with its 
former neatness, and the sense of propriety in the 
household was often offended by Reba’s careless attire. 

Her mother scolded, her father frowned, and her 
brother provokingly felt her pulse, and wondered 
whether this new symptom of the disease was a 
dangerous one, and how soon the}^ might reasonably 
hope for a turn in the fever. 

Reba read Paul’s injunction that women adorn 
themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness 
and sobriety, not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, 
or costly array.” And then forgetting the meaning 
of the very first word of this quotation, and neglect- 
ing to read farther on, she missed the spirit of the 
whole. 


HIS CHOICE. 


165 


Her jewels, the pretty triukets that her father and 
mother had found pleasure in giving her on birthdays, 
and as Christmas gifts, lay unheeded in her drawer. 
She decided that one dress was as good as another for 
any occasion, and declared that the follies of fashion 
could no longer claim her attention. 

Rob Senderliug actually felt mortified one evening, 
when he had taken her to a lecture, by the utter want 
of care manifested in the whole appearance of this girl, 
whom he used to be so pleased to introduce to his friends. 

Others noticed it too, and wondered what could 
have so changed Reba Ashwood. Edith Hendry 
spoke to her about it freely. To be neat in her attire 
had been a part of Edith^s every-day training from 
very babyhood. She was not pretty, and she had 
never been vain enough to imagine that she was; but 
she had looked upon it almost as a religious duty to 
make herself neat, and as attractive as she honestly 
could in the eyes of those about her. For, thought 
she, how can a slovenly woman adorn the doctrine 
of God our Saviour in all things How can an 
untidy woman be entirely ^‘without rebuke in the 
midst of a crooked and perverse nation ’’ ? 


166 


HIS CHOICE. 


She knew that Reba was wrong, both in practice' 
and theory. She never reasonably could hope to 
attract any member of her family toward religion 
while she offended their taste in matters of neatness 
and order. 

Edith felt that her friend did not realize that she 
had a work to do in her own home — a work in which 
it was. impossible to succeed in the present condition 
of affairs. She determined to go to see her. 

It was not more than half past nine in the morn- 
ing, and Edith was directed' to her friend’s room. 
When she entered that apartment she w^as really 
amazed. Reba had always had the care of her own 
room, for Mrs. Ashwood thought it best for her 
daughter to do this service for herself. Until recently 
it had been kept in the very perfection of neatness, 
and Edith was surprised beyond measure to see that 
now the room had shared the general untidiness of 
her dress. 

Reba herself, in neglected attire, sat in the midst 
of her neglected apartment, studying her Bible. She 
looked slightly annoyed that Edith should have been 
admitted thus unexpectedly to her room. She knew 


HIS CHOICE. 


167 


well what a contrast it must form to Editlfs own. 
But after greeting her friend she resumed her seat, and 
drawing up another for Edith, she quickly referred 
to her reading. It was Christ’s commission to evan- 
gelize the world. 

‘‘How my heart goes out to this work, Edith,” 
she said. “ No doubt you will go off to Armenia on 
a mission — ^you who always were contented with the 
present, and never had a lofty aspiration in all your 
life ; and I shall be left here, longing to work, but 
unable to do so.” 

Edith flushed, but not altogether at the personal 
reference, though her engagement to Paul Elverton 
was not generally known. It was partly from a feel- 
ing of indignation that the girl’s “ lofty aspirations ” 
should so entirely overlook all present and obvious 
duties. Still her voice was very quiet as she asked : 

“ Why don’t you begin at home, Reba ? ” 

“At home? Oh, I’ve nearly lost hope for them. 
Our Charlie is a perfect heathen. You ought to hear 
him talk sometimes. And both father and mother 
are very much opposed to my religion. It is very 
hard.” And Reba sighed heavily. 


168 


HIS CHOICE. 


I should be opposed to it too, if I thought it was 
really your religion which has made the wonderful 
change there has b.een in you of late,” said Edith, with 
as much of sharpness as ever came in her face and 
voice. Come, Keba, let us set this room to rights, 
and after that we can sit down and talk of your 
aspirations.” 


CHAPTER Xyil. 


A GEE AT CHANGE. 

"pEBA rose with another long-drawn sigh. She felt 
j:hat even Edith did not understand or appreci- 
ate her. As she laid aside her Bible, she renfarked : 

I have been so absorbed in the study of the word 
of God, that I have not had time for this menial work. 
But I don’t want you to help with it, Edith. Come, 
we will go down-stairs, and I can do this when I 
have leisure.” 

don’t think it would be right for you to go 
down-stairs and leave it so,” replied Edith, sorting 
out pins and hairpins, and putting all in their proper 
places. 

Right f Why not? I am sure I have been en- 
gaged in nobler things ! ” said Reba, reluctantly taking 
up a dress to hang in the closet. 

The noblest thing to be done at any moment is 
just the duty, however humble, that belongs to that 

moment. It would be nobler to wash dishes, when 

169 


170 


HIS CHOICE. 


washing dishes is our work, than it would be to teach 
the heathen, when teaching the heathen is not the 
work God has given into our hands,^^ Edith replied. 

Now, will you get the broom and duster and chamois, 
or shall I?” 

Reba felt very much injured, but she went to get 
the needed articles. 

. She was gone for several minutes, and when she 
returned, Edith, having done all that could be done 
until these things were brought, stood by the window 
with Reba’s Bible open in her hand. Before she laid 
it down she read, without comment, these words : 

^^^Then cometh Simon Peter following him, and 
went into' the sepulchre, and seeth the linen clothes 
lie, and the napkin, that was about his head, not lying 
with the linen clothes, but wrapped together in a place 
by itself.’ ” 

She closed the book and took the broom. Both 
girls worked in silence for several moments. Pres- 
ently Reba asked, a little curiously : 

‘‘Why did you readjust that?” 

“ To remind us that when the Lord Jesus left his 
three days’ sleeping place, although he had just come 


HIS CHOICE. 


171 


from the most important event in all the world^s his- 
tory, and before him were but forty days yet of 
earthly teaching, the place of his repose was left in the 
most perfect neatness,’^ replied Edith, as she quietly 
worked on. 

The idea struck Reba just as her friend had in- 
tended it should. The girl was standing before the 
bureau polishing the long, heavy glass, with a chamois. 
She stopped and looked inquiringly at her own reflec- 
tion. It was not a pleasing reflection. An untidy 
dress never is pleasing. At that moment Reba won- 
dered if Christ ever appeared in an untidy dress. 
She felt certain that he never did. The rest of the 
arrangement of the room was finished without another 
word being spoken by either of the girls. 

Then Reba took away the broom and duster. 
When she returned she found Edith again reading. 
She was now sitting down, as if prepared for comfort 
and a long talk. 

The book was opened ; but no word was needed 
just now. The passage which Edith had read aloud 
had served its purpose. 

I wonder if I shall ever, ever learn what is right?” 


172 


HIS CHOICE. 


asked Eeba, sorrowfully. Indeed, I do want to serve 
the Lord, but I constantly mistake the way.’’ 

She stood before the glass again, and looked in with 
eyes from which the scales had fallen ; and, standing 
there, she made the honest confession : 

‘^As you say, I do not wonder they are opposed — 
not so much to my religion, as to the ridiculous 
notions I somehow always tack on to it.” 

^^But the Lord will help you to see your duty 
plainly if you ask him,” said Edith. 

I do ask him, indeed I do, Edith,” replied Eeba. 
^^But then somehow I get to looking at only one 
thing, and fail to see anything else. That causes all 
the trouble.” 

I fear there are a great many one-sided Christians 
in the world,” remarked Edith. 

“I don’t want to be a ^one-sided Christian’; but I 
am much afraid that I am just that now,” remarked 
Eeba, as she took a clean dress out of the closet, and 
then opened a drawer for a clean collar and cuffs. 

It is not the Lord’s wish that you should be such ; 
and if you ask him, I am sure he will help you not 
to be,” replied Edith, quietly. 


HIS CHOICE. 


173 


Reba dressed and arranged her luxuriant dark hair 
almost in silence.. Then she came and sat down 
opposite her friend. She looked much more like the 
bright, attractive girl of former times than like the 
one Edith met on entering the room. 

‘‘How about the heathen now? What do you 
think of commencing your work of evangelization 
at home now ? ” asked Edith, with a smile. 

“ With myself?’’ 

“ I did not mean that. I meant in your own 
family, instead of across the sea.” 

“ At least I should be sure of less opposition now, 
and therefore I have better hopes of success,” replied 
Reba, glancing down at her clean dress and neat 
appearance, which could not call forth the least dis- 
pleasure now. 

Edith looked at the book she still held open. She 
read the account of Esther. 

“ I hope you will obtain favor in the sight of those 
whom you would win for Christ,” she said. 

“ Edith, I should have thought that wicked vanity 
yesterday ; but somehow it seems like good, sound, 
common sense to-day,” said Reba. 


174 


HIS CHOICE. 


Of course, there are two extremes, and perhaps 
one is as bad as the other,^’ Edith hastened to say, as 
she remembered her friend’s propensity for extremes. 
“ It would be wrong for a Christian to dress to obtain 
favor merely for favor’s sake, or simply to gratify 
selfish vanity. That would be as far from the spirit 
of Christ as the neglect of our friends’ comfort and 
wishes could be. But I do believe God’s children 
should do everything, even dress, for his glory,” said 
Edith. 

Edith, you are an angel,” cried the impulsive girl, 
leaning forward and giving Edith’s hands a little, 
affectionate squeeze. 

I thought you knew me, Keba ; but it seems you 
will have to be introduced,” objected Edith. 

“Well, at any rate, you are a dear, good girl. 
Don’t you sometimes get tired, and even disgusted, 
with my childishness ? Do you remember, Edith, we 
are twenty years old, both of us ? ” 

“ I often wonder at the Lord’s patience with our 
childishness and slowness to learn. I feel that I 
might have learned much more in my twenty years,” 
answered Edith, thoughtfully. 


HIS CHOICE. 


175 


“ I was thinkiog only about myself, Edith. But 
come down-stairs now. I want to sing for you a 
hymn I have been practicing of late — ^ Ashamed of 
Jesus.^ Miss Wells sang it at our church the other 
night, and you admired it so much.” 

The two girls descended to the parlor, and Reba 
continued : 

I have come to the decision now, Edith, that per- 
haps the Lord wants me to use my voice for him, 
instead of giving up music, as I once proposed.” 

Of course he does ; otherwise he would never 
have given it to you. I am sure of that,” replied 
Edith. 

Reba sat down to the piano, and Edith gave herself 
up to the delight of listening. 

Reba’s voice was certainly a rare gift from God — 
strong, clear, sweet, rich, full, and under perfect con- 
trol. It seemed to Edith to have now a power to 
sway hearts such as it never had before. Her listener 
was quieted and rested by the song. 

That is beautiful, Reba. Did you ever sing that 
for your parents ? ” asked Edith. • 

“ Yes. I sang it only yesterday for mother, and 


176 


HIS CHOICE. 


when I had finished, the only comment she ifiade was 
to wish I would go and dress, for she was afraid callers 
might come in, and she wouy not like any one to 
see me as I was. I thought she did not appreciate it. 
Bui now I wonder if I did not myself voluntarily 
throw away my own power.” 

I fear we too often do that, and in more ways 
than we think,” said Edith, thoughtfully. 

Reba turned to the piano, and began to play softly, 
and presently to sing again. It was Francis Ridley 
HavergaFs Consecration Hymn now. She stopped 
suddenly when she came to the lines : 

“ Take my voice, and let me sing, 

Always — only — ^for my King.” 

Edith, did you ever think about Jesus singing 
with his disciples ? That made me see so clearly how 
wrong it was for me to give up my music. I think 
of it always now when I sing,” she said. 

That is the secret, dear, of your new power. 
You do indeed now sing ^Always — only — for ^mur 
King,^ ” replied Edith, rising, for her visit had already 
been protracted beyond its intended limits. And 
singing so, he will bless you, I am sure.” 


HIS CHOICE. 


177 


If I don’t put too many obstacles in my own 
way/’ replied Reba, following her friend to the door. 

God did bless her in the use of her voice for him. 
As Edith had said, there was a new power in her 
song, arising from her conscious desire to please 
Christ. And in the years of life that followed, that 
power was often and often used for the glory of God. 

Since the night of that merry company when Reba 
had sung the simple hymn, Hide Thou Me,” her 
mother had felt a secret dissatisfaction and unrest, in 
the fact that she had no refuge in which to hide, 
when temptations or trials or sorrows overtook her. 

That hymn became a decided favorite with Reba. 
She sung it often when she was alone, to cheer her 
soul. It brought so near the knowledge of the Refuge 
she had found in Jesus. 

One day she thought herself alone, as she sang 
these words softly. The parlor was in dim light; 
only a ray shone from a partly-drawn curtain across 
the piano. 

Mrs. Ash wood happened to be in the room. She had 
been fatigued by a morning’s shopping, and had 
come in here to rest in the quiet and cool. She had 

M 


178 


HIS CHOICE. 


fallen into a light doze, but Reba’s first note had 
awakened her. She looked with fond pleasure at the 
neat, graceful figure at the piano. The dash and 
extreme style which used to characterize Reba Ash- 
wood^s dress were wanting ; but she was now truly 
adorned in modest apparel, which was far more be- 
coming to the young girl than her former dashing 
style. 

But Eeba was singing, and Mrs. Ash wood forgot 
about the dress in listening to the song. 

Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes, and fell un- 
heeded over her cheeks and down upon her heaving 
bosom. Why had she never gone to that Eefuge ? 

Reba’s song changed. A few soft notes of prelude, 
and then she sang Ashamed of Jesus.” 

Mrs. Ash wood had her answer. She had been held 
back from a known duty by a sense of shame. She 
had been ashamed of that best friend ” — ashamed to 
accept him as her Saviour, and to acknowledge him 
before her fashionable friends ! 

Eeba finished and left the room, still unconscious 
of its one occupant ; unconscious of the fact that God 
had used her voice to carry conviction to the heart of 


HIS CHOICE. 


179 


her beloved mother — and that, too, by the singing of 
the very hymn whose power had once been lost 
through the untidy dress of the singer. 

Melted by those beautiful words, sung with such 
thrilling tenderness, Mrs. Ash wood sat looking into 
her own heart ; she saw its helplessness and its 
poverty. And then she looked up to a Saviour cruci- 
fied for our transgressions, and risen again for our 
justification. 

Long she had refused him ; but now she accepted, 
with tears of contrition, Christas offer of salvation. 

The day her mother made a public profession of 
her faith in Christ was a wonderfully joyous day for 
Reba. And earnestly she thanked God for her voice, 
and the use she had been led to make of it, when 
she knew it had been instrumental in her mother’s 


conversion. 


5 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A WEDDING. 

rpHE firm of Senderling & Son, formerly Carmon 
& Senderling, were passing through troubled 
waters. The failure of two or three large New 
York firms affected them, and there was danger that 
they would suffer serious loss. 

This rumor reached Mrs. Carmon, and she com- 
placently smoothed out the folds of her glossy black 
satin dress, and congratulated herself • that the Car- 
mon portion of the business had been safely with- 
drawn long before this danger threatened. She felt 
very glad that she had followed her son’s advice. She 
little imagined that the exhaustion of that sum had 
much to do with her son’s presently expressed desire 
to leave Germany. 

She wrote to Clayton about the rumor. In his 
reply he wrote her a glowing account of her little 
grandson, who was now nearly a year old, and also 

wrote that his wife’s health was not strong, and he 
180 


HIS CHOICE. 


181 


feared he should have to return to America before he 
had fully completed his studies. 

He did not state that he had in reality attended but 
few lectures, devoting most of his time to the pleas- 
ure, as he said, of his wife ; though really their tastes 
were so much alike, and they so perfectly agreed 
in ease-loving and indolence, that her pleasure was 
his. 

Mrs. Carmon wrote back that health was always 
and under all circumstances a consideration of the 
first importance, and that she was just dying’’ to see 
the baby; so they had better come home immediately. 

Five years had been spent in the (supposed) study 
of medicine; but at the end of it Clayton had gained 
no medical knowledge, and was, of course, without a 
diploma. And now, at twenty -five years of age, he 
was incapable of taking up honest, earnest life-work 
in any direction. 

He returned with his wife and child, and by the 
time he arrived the firm of Senderling & Son had 
weathered the storm of adverse circumstances, and 
was again upon a sound financial basis. 

Moreover, on the very evening that they were 


182 


HIS CHOICE. 


welcomed home, there was a quiet but pleasant gath- 
ering at the Ash wood residence, and Reba Ash wood 
was married to the junior member of that promising 
firm. 

Rob Senderling was now where he had said he 
hoped one day to be, though really he was there 
earlier than he had anticipated. The withdrawal of 
the Garmon portion of the business had made some 
changes necessary. 

He and Reba had talked about being married 
before this, but while business was so unsettled the 
marriage had been postponed. A small but pleasant 
house had been purchased by Rob ; the furniture was 
a joint present from the two fathers; for they were to 
go immediately to housekeeping. They were not 
even to take a wedding-trip. After the ceremony at 
her father’s, followed by the wedding supper and con- 
gratulations, the young couple were driven to their 
new home ; for they were to begin to feel at once that 
it was their home. 

While Rob Senderling had succeeded in temporal 
affairs, he had not been idle in spiritual work. He 
possessed a great advantage from the fact that his 


HIS CHOICE. 


183 


father was in the field before him, and not only led 
the way, but always helped him forward. 

Mr. Senderling knew perfectly well that a Chris- 
tian life, to be healthful, must be an active one. His 
own had been such, and he took Rob to be his friend 
and co-worker. 

The young man thus found his place at once, in the 
active work of the church, rendering the service of an 
honest, thoroughly consecrated, and well-educated life 
and heart. 

Home training does make a vast difference. If 
Reba’s mother had been like Edith’s, it would have 
been almost impossible for the former to run into such 
extremes as she did. 

Mr. Senderling had always sought guidance from 
the great Source of all wisdom in all that he had done 
for his son. 

One day, when Rob and Reba were together attend- 
ing to the arrangement of some of the furniture in 
their new home before their marriage, Reba had said : 

Rob, I want this to be like the house at Bethany 
— a place where Jesus will come and rest. He came 
there, because he loved and was loved.” 


184 


HIS CHOICE. 


Bob did not answer for several moments; still 
Keba knew that her words had not fallen upon un- 
heeding ears. Presently he turned to her, and said : 

^^Beba, I’m glad to hear you say this. I had 
myself thought of it. We will ask him to dwell 
with us from the very first.” 

In accordance with this, the very first evening of 
their arrival, the altar of family prayer was raised in 
their home. • 

A week or two after their marriage, Beba was at 
her old home one day, looking over some seldom- 
used books in the library. From between the leaves 
of one a newspaper clipping fell. She took it up, and 
saw that it was a poem that some one had cut out for 
careful preservation. She had not read far before she 
discovered that it was from this poem her mother had 
made extracts for the album she had given her so 
long ago, and whose incitement to ^^do something” 
had had so strong an influence upon her young 
life. 

Her mother had copied but a portion of the poem, 
and now Beba read it entire. These lines lingered in 
her memory : 


HIS CHOICE. 


185 


Pray heaven for firmness thy whole soul to bind 
To thy one purpose — to begin, pursue, 

With thoughts all fixed and feelings purely kind, 
Strength to complete, and with delight review, 

And grace to give the praise where all is due.” 

There have been two troubles with my doing/^ 
she said, half aloud. I had a half-dozen purposes 
instead of one, and I wanted too much of the praise 
for myself. I see it now. Lord, help me to live for 
the single purpose of thy glory.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 
Paul’s unexpected summons. 


UXE twenty-eighth was a beautiful, balmy, sum- 



^ mer day — as beautiful and as cloudless as the 
most superstitious bride could have wished. The 
bride who was adorning herself for her husband ” on 
this day was not in the least superstitious. She knew 
that God ruled, and ruled wisely and well for all of 
his children. This was the day appointed for Edith 
Hendry’s marriage to Paul Elverton. 

Paul had finished his theological preparations for 
his carefully and conscientiously planned life work. 
He had received his appointment as a medical mis- 
sionary to the land to which his heart had so long 
turned. And now, on the twenty-eighth day of June, 
he was to be married to one whom he loved truly and 
well. There were to be farewell services to the mis- 
sionaries in a great city church, and even the tickets 
for their voyage had been bought. 

Edith had said once that she would do the best she 


186 


HIS CHOICE. 


187 


could wherever God placed her ; if alone, then alone ; 
or, if beside some noble worker for the Master, she 
would try to be his inspiration to higher and nobler 
aims than those already attained. 

This she had been to Paul Elverton almost ever 
since the day she had said it, and even before ; for he 
had never forgotten the kindly smile on the morning 
of his graduation, and had never ceased to strive to be 
worthy of the girl who had given it. 

Paul had come home on the twenty-second of June, 
intending to remain until after the important twenty- 
eighth. But two days previously he had suddenly 
been summoned back to the city to the deathbed of a 
distant relative. 

Must you go ? ” Edith had asked in dismay. But 
even before he had time to answer she answered her- 
self : Yes, you must go. It is selfish in me to wish 
to keep you ; but when will you be back ? ” 

^^Some time before nine o’clock the day after to- 
morrow, you may be sure of that,” he said, playfully, 
as he looked down into the earnest face, and lifted a 
stray curl tenderly in his fingers. Then he added : I 
do not know exactly, Edith. I will write to you as soon 


188 


HIS CHOICE. 


as I get there and see how matters stand. It seems to 
us unfortunate that this summons comes at this time ; 
but God rules, and his plans do not clash even though 
we cannot account for them. But no circumstances 
shall keep me away from you later than Thursday tea 
time. I will come earlier if possible.’^ 

You mean no circumstances that you can control, 
corrected Edith. 

Certainly. I know that our times are in God’s 
hands, but I cannot imagine that he would keep me 
from you then. I must go at once, Edith. Good- 
bye. ^ The Lord watch between thee and me while 
we are absent one from another.’ ” 

There were tears in Edith’s eyes, and yet there was 
a happy, confident smile upon her lips as she watched 
her lover go. It would not be long, only till the day 
after to-morrow, and then she would have him always. 

She had only recently heard of the existence of this 
uncle. In fact, neither Paul nor his uncle had known 
each other until a year or so before. Then Paul had 
happened to meet the friendless old man, and had an 
opportunity to be kind to him. He was very old, and 
apparently entirely alone in the world. Something in 


HIS CHOICE. 


189 


that loneliness had touched Paul ; perhaps because he 
had known in his own life what loneliness meant. 
Since they had first met he had brightened many an 
otherwise desolate hour in the old man’s life. 

His name was also Paul Elverton. Indeed, it was 
that fact which led to the discovery of their relation- 
ship. Paul had been a family name for generations 
back. 

The elder Paul lived alone, except for a servant, 
who prepared his meals, made his bed, swept and 
dusted his rooms, and mended his clothes, and 
asked no questions. In that last point she suited him 
exactly. 

The young man knew absolutely nothing about his 
uncle’s past history. He had asked a question or two 
once ; but the subject was evidently distaseful to the 
elder man, and it had never been spoken of again 
between them. 

Paul was now summoned to his deathbed, and so 
far as he knew he was the only relation living to 
come to it. 

The old man died early on Thursday morning. 
When Paul asked if anybody else should be sent for, 


190 


HIS CHOICE. 


or if there were any messages to be delivered, a feeble 
voice replied in the negative. The old man told Paul 
where to find his will and a few other papers of value, 
and added that they would give all necessary infor- 
mation when he was gone. 

And so he died. 

Paul closed the glazed eyes and composed the aged 
limbs for their narrow resting-place. He also gave 
directions to the servant, and made arrangements about 
the funeral. There was no one else to attend to any- 
thing. 

He found the will and the other papers just where 
he had been directed to look. He would not open the 
package now, but he thought it safest to take it with 
him. 

By the time all this had been attended to, the after- 
noon was fast advancing. He looked at his watch, 
and calculated that he had just time to make the train 
that would take him home by five o’clock. Leaving 
matters in the hands of the woman and the help he 
had procured for her, and promising to return for the 
funeral, he hastened to the depot. 

But he reached there one-half minute too late. The 


HIS CHOICE. 


191 


train had gone, the last train that went to Hallberg 
before midnight — and this his wedding evening. 

He stood there in the direst dismay. It was no 
comfort to find that his usually reliable watch had 
unaccountably lost three minutes. 

What should he do ? Disappoint Edith ? 

No ; 1^11 walk first ! he said, impetuously, though 
he knew perfectly well that it was impossible; 

But he must do something. He must make some 
effort. Even if it were not a successful one, it would 
be better than waiting passively ; he could not do that. 

He had already scanned the time schedule for the 
road, and knew perfectly well that there were no trains 
after the one that had just gone until one at midnight; 
but with that despairing hope which must be held 
accountable for many a foolish question, he asked the 
ticket agent what time the next train started for 
Hallberg. 

“ Twelve o’clock, sir,” was the already known re- 
sponse, though Paul sighed to hear the words. 

The ticket agent was not very busy, and noticed 
the troubled face — a face, by the way, that he remem- 
bered to have seen frequently before. 


192 


HIS CHOICE. 


you wish to reach Hallberg sooner, your best 
plan would be to go as far as Danton, on the South 
Shore Eoad. Then you would only be twelve miles 
from there, and could probably drive across,” said the 
ticket agent. 

The suggestion was accepted at once. The train 
for Danton started in ten minutes (the longest ten 
minutes Paul Elverton ever remembered, however), 
and if at Danton he could secure a conveyance with- 
out delay, he would no doubt reach Hallberg — not, 
indeed, as soon as he expected, but yet well before the 
important hour of nine. 

Before he started, he telegraphed to Edith : 

^^Have been unexpectedly detained, but will be 
there on time.” 

Perhaps it was only PauPs impatience; but if 
questioned, he certainly would have told you that the 
South Shore Road did not make nearly as rapid time 
as other roads. However, they did reach Danton at 
last. 

It was nearly sunset now. At any other time he 
would probably have noticed the long shadows cast 
by the level sun rays, that Edith loved so much. At 


HIS CHOICE. 


193 


any other time he would probably have seen what a 
pretty, quiet little village this was, with its houses 
built separately, and set back from the road in taste- 
fully arranged gardens. Had he known that this 
was his last opportunity fqr ever looking upon such a 
scene, would he not have looked now ? 

But he did not know. He did not think of any- 
thing now except securing a conveyance that should 
take him to his loved one. 

Many a silent prayer had been breathed during 
that afternoon. In the midst of tumult and travel 
he had entered into the closet of his heart, and, shut- 
ting the door, had prayed with fear and trembling 
that no circumstances which should be beyond his 
control (how Edith’s words rang again and again in 
his ears ; how he had striven to comfort himself again 
and again by his answer to her about God’s plans 
being right and never clashing) should keep him from 
her to-night — their wedding night. 

It was hard for him to add Nevertheless, not as 
I will, but as thou wilt.” Still in his heart he 
thought he said it. 

He soon engaged a man with a quick team to drive 
N 


194 


HIS CHOICE. 


him to Hallberg, and it seemed now that no farther 
hindrance was to be looked for. PauFs hopes rose 
and his fears vanished as they drove rapidly towards 
his destination. The sun set, the twilight deepened, 
and the crescent moon threw a half-light over the 
quiet earth. Still they were driving rapidly onward. 


CHAPTER XX. 


WAITING FOR THE BRIDEGROOM. 

^ ^ i TELEGRAM ? Can it be from Paul ? 
Can anything be the matter?” 

Edith turned deathly pale, and her trembling 
hands could scarcely tear open the envelope. 

A strange, unaccountable feeling of dread had 
been with Edith all the day. It was not strange that 
her first thought should be of her absent lover, 

Paul had written twice to her during his short 
absence, and she had comforted herself by many 
readings of those dear missives. 

Still a feeling of dread, which she could neither 
account for nor throw off, was ever present with her. 

This caused her to start with nervous apprehension 
when the telegram was put into her hands. 

It was from Paul, but it was merely to assure her 
that he would be there though he had been delayed. 
The sun of this June day had already set. Edith 

had watched the long shadows across the lawn, and 

195 


196 


HIS CHOICE. 


listeDed to the twittering of the birds as they went to 
their evening rest, all the while wondering where 
Paul was now, and what had detained him. 

The two girls who were to be her bridesmaids 
chattered away about the dresses and gloves, laces 
and flowers. Edith said but little, only when occa- 
sionally they wondered at PauPs detention, she said ; 

He will be here. He never disappointed me in 
his life, and, if God wills, he will come now.’^ 

Presently lights twinkled forth from the windows, 
and after a while the friends who were bidden came 
by twos and threes and half dozens, making a con- 
tinual buzz of arrivals, greetings, and mutual inquiry 
and laughter. 

Over in the sitting-room the presents were looked 
at and discussed ; everywhere was the sound of glad 
voices, and the sight of glad faces, except in Edith’s 
room. 

There sat the girl in her pure white bridal dress, 
her slender form enveloped in the fleecy cloud of her 
long graceful veil, fastened by a spray of orange 
blossoms. 

How she listened to every carriage, as it drove 


HIS CHOICE. 


197 


up ! How she strained her ear to catch the sound 
of the voice, or the step of her lover ! But she heard 
neither. Paul came not. 

Eight o’clock struck, nine o’clock. The guests 
down-stairs began to look at their watches. 

Edith’s father looked anxious as he watched every 
arrival, and her mother came again and again to her 
room. 

Something serious must have occurred. What 
did his telegram say ? ” was asked, repeatedly. 

Have been unexpectedly detained, but will be 
there on time.” It was read until they all Imew it by 
heart. 

Yes, Paul would have come through fire and flood 
almost,” Edith said. ‘^Something that God knew 
about, but he did not, must have kept him.” 

Half-past nine o’clock, ten, eleven. But no Paul. 

The circumstances of the unexpected call to tho city, 
the death of his relative, and the telegram were dis- 
cussed again and again ; as such things will always be 
discussed at a time like this. There were various 
conjectures and theories and questions; but no cer- 
tainties could be attained. 


198 


HIS CHOICE. 


Eeba Senderling was admitted to her friend^s room, 
but she had no words to say ; what good could words 
do now ? She only put her arms tenderly around the 
sorrowful girl, kissed her softly, and then left the 
room again. 

The guests down-stab's left. The two bridesmaids 
had no words that could comfort their friend ; so they 
went across the hall to the room that had been 
assigned to them. 

Then Mrs. Hendry came and strained her daughter 
in a long, close embrace. 

Can I do anything for you, my dear child ? ” she 
asked. 

Only pray for Paul.” 

Shall I stay with you ? ” 

^^No, go and rest. Leave me alone with my 
Heavenly Father.” 

Then Edith, still arrayed in her bridal robe, knelt 
beside her bed ; and there, alone, came the first tears 
to her relief. Far into the night she knelt and prayed 
— prayed for Paul : 

Father, wherever he is, take care of him! 
If thou canst spare his life, oh, spare it ! Whatever 


HIS CHOICE. 


199 


occurrence in thy providence thou hast sent to him, 
may it eventually be to thy honor and glory. What- 
ever his circumstances or condition just now, go to 
him with the comfort of thy love, and sustain his 
spirit. Make me strong to bear whatever thou dost 
send. Make us both willing and obedient servants ! 
Such was the burden of her prayer. 

Twelve, one, two o^clock, and Edith was still kneel- 
ing there. 

Other wakeful eyes were in the house that night ; 
but all was wrapped in the stillness usual to the 
hour. 

Suddenly there came a sound upon the air. It was 
the far-off, yet approaching, sound of wheels. They 
stopped before the gate; there was the click of the 
iron latch, and the sound of wheels upon the graveled 
drive within. 

Edith’s heart almost stood still. Was it his man- 
gled body brought home to her from some horrible 
accident? Was it ? 

But Edith strove to ^ill her fears. She only 
prayed : “ Lord, give me strength to say thy will be 
done.” 


200 


HIS CHOICE. 


The moon cast a dim light over the scene on which 
Edith looked through her partly closed blinds. 

Her father, who had heard the approach also, was 
at the front door as soon as the carriage reached it. 
Edith heard low voices, but could catch no word — 
not a sound of the voice she longed to hear. 

She saw a man helped from the carriage. His face 
and head were bandaged in a way to defy recognition ; 
but the form seemed to her that of Paul. 

He entered the house leaning upon the arm of her 
father, and she saw him put his hand out, as if 
feeling his way. The men in the carriage drove olf 
again. 

Edith trembled so that she coidd scarcely stand, 
yet remain longer where she was, she could not. A 
moment later, and she stood in the sitting-room door, 
guided thither by the light and the voices. What an 
incongruous scene ! Everywhere were the traces of 
last evening^s company. A large table was spread 
with the gifts that had been brought in honor of the 
bride-to-be, and the air was laden with the perfume 
of flowers. And there was Paul — her Paul — on the 
easy lounge, with Mr. and Mrs. Hendry by his side. 





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201 


They turned at the sound, as the white figure 
approached. Paul turned his head slightly too ; but 
he could not see what they did. 

“ Edith, have you not undressed yet ? ” exclaimed 
Mrs. Hendry. 

But Edith scarcely heard the question. She knelt 
beside the lounge. 

Paul,’’ she whispered, I am here, Paul.” 

My darling, God knows how I wanted to come — 
how I tried to come.” 

You need not tell me, Paul. I am sure of it. I 
am so thankful that you are living. I feared, Paul, 
though I prayed all the time. But you must not tell 
me about it now,” and she drew the poor, bandaged 
head close to her bosom, where it willingly rested for 
a moment. 

Then, as if hurt, stung by a sudden thought, he - 
turned away, and his, husky voice told the depth of 
his emotion. 

Edith, my Edith ! I cannot blight your life by 
linking it to one that is now darkened forever. I am 
blind, Edith. My hopes for a life of usefulness in 
the Lord’s vineyard are dashed to pieces in a moment. 


202 


HIS CHOICE. 


Of what use can I be now ? None, none. But the 
Lord has much for you to do, Edith.” 

Blind, Paul ? Blind ? ” asked Edith, in low, 
agonized tones. She could not even pray ; her heart 
seemed to stand still in the conscious presence of God. 
That very consciousness brought her strength pres- 
ently. 

Yes, blind.” He repeated the word in a tone of 
despair. 

“ Then I must be eyes for you,” she replied. 

‘‘ Of what use can I be now ? ” he repeated. “ I 
must give up my hopes of being a missionary. What 
can a blind servant do ? ” 

I do not know exactly, but the Lord does. Paul, 
he makes no mistakes. I have been praying all 
night, Paul, th^t God would spare your life, and that 
whatever he sent we might see to be for his glory. 
It is hard, very hard to see it now ; but we must trust 
him — trust him, Paul.” 

I have worked so hard all these years, and now 
in an hour it has come to nothing,” said the young 
man, sadly. 

No it has not come to nothing. What we do for 


HIS CHOICE. 


203 


God never does, and I know you were working for 
him. Paul, we must trust him, even in this dark 
hour.^' 

He did not speak for several moments. Then he 
said: 

Edith, you cannot imagine how horribly dis- 
. figured I shall be for life.^’ 

Hush,” said Edith, laying her hand over his 
mouth. ‘^Nothing but sin can disfigure your soul, 
and that is what I love, Paul. But we must talk no 
longer. You need rest.” 

The doctor, for whom Mr. Hendry had sent imme- 
diately after PauPs arrival, now came, and said the 
same. 

He found, however, that the young man’s wounds 
had been dressed with such skill that there was 
nothing to do now but to prescribe rest, which was 
indeed much needed after such a day and night. 

We must now go back to the time of PauPs de- 
parture from Danton. 

Two-thirds of the distance between Danton and 
• Hallberg had been accomplished, and Paul was look- 
ing forward to speedily reaching his destination. 


204 


HIS CHOICE. 


They were approaching the town of Afton, the 
only town of any considerable size on the route, 
when the horse, a fiery animal that had been chosen 
for this occasion on account of his speed, shied vio- 
lently at some object, which the dim moonlight served 
more to suggest than to reveal. 

The driver was unguardedly talking to the man 
beside him, and the frightened beast reared and 
plunged aside, and then dashed forward. 

Paul was thrown from his seat, and hurled with 
force against a hard, cragged rock by the roadside. 
When the horse was brought under control, and they 
returned to him, they found that he was stunned and 
dreadfully wounded about the face. 

He was carried to a drug store in Afton, and his 
wounds dressed. But a sharp corner of the rock 
against which he had been thrown had caused the 
entire loss of one eye, and rendered the other sightless. 

In the midst of his suffering he thought of Edith. 
He knew how anxious she would be. And his 
urgent entreaties obtained the permission of the sur- 
geon to proceed on his painful and now long-belated 
journey. 


HIS CHOICE. 


205 


What then ? Had all his prayers been lost ? Was 
God unmindful or unkind ? 

No. God is not unmindful when he does not give 
us our requests just as we ask them. He who sees to 
the end loves us too well to give us any but the best 
blessings that can be bestowed. We do not always 
see how this is ; hut that is not saying that it is not so. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


ROB AND CLAYTON IN CONVERSATION. 


^ ^ OOD-MORNING, Garmon. I heard that you 



had .returned some weeks ago, though oddly 


enough we have not met in all this time. How are 
you ? Well, I hope ? ” 

Oh, yes ! I can’t complain on that score.” 

Rob Senderling spoke with the briskness and 
heartiness which characterized whatever he did. And 
Clayton Carmon answered, in his usual good-natured, 
indolent tone. 

‘^Have you opened an office here in Hallberg?” 
asked Rob. 

Clayton Carmon flushed slightly; but he was not 
thrown from his easy indifference by this question. 

“ No. The fact is, I have about given up the idea 
of practicing my profession. It isn’t a very easy life 
to be at everybody’s beck and call, and called up at 
any hour of the night that any one takes it into his 


206 


HIS CHOICE. 


207 


head to send for you. I think I’d rather be ex- 
cused ! ” said Clayton, shrugging his shoulders. 

course, it isn’t an easy life; anybody could 
have told you that five years ago ! But what are you 
going to do, man? Waste all these years that you 
have been studying ? ” 

Clayton did not say that they had already been 
wasted, though that would have been the truth. He 
only replied, in a careless tone : 

‘^As for that, knowledge of any sort is never a 
burden to carry; and you know it is not financially 
necessary for me to practice. I guess I will turn 
agent for the estate. There is no occasion for mother 
to retain the men that have been doing business for 
her during my absence.” 

It was only the first part of this speech that 
claimed Rob’s attention ; and to it he replied : 

‘^Of course, knowledge is no burden to carry; but 
then it is of no use unless we practically make it so. 
If one has knowledge that may be of service to 
others, one ought to use it for others; and if, as you 
say, there is no financial necessity for you to practice, 
there is much suffering that you might relieve among 


208 


HIS CHOICE. 


a class who cannot afford to pay for medical service. 
It seems to me God has put into your hands a rare 
opportunity to work for him.” 

Rob was speaking from false premises. Clayton 
had not this knowledge, though he had had every 
opportunity to gain it. Every man is responsible, not 
only for what he is, but for what he has had the 
opportunity to become. Some one has said, you 
know: Close beside every man there walks the 

ghost of what he might have been.” 

Clayton drew himself up haughtily, and replied, in 
frigid tones : 

Excuse me, Senderling; but you know I never 
did believe in that sort of nonsense. You cannot 
convince me that it makes the least particle of differ- 
ence to the Lord what I individually do.” 

I wish I could convince you ; for I am sure it is 
true; and it will make a great deal more difference 
some day to you than it can to him,” replied Rob, 
seriously. 

Nonsense ! if he governs these things, as you sup- 
pose, why did he let Paul Elverton go stone-blind just 
when he was ready to begin what he imagined to be 


HIS CHOICE. 


209 


his grand and appointed life work ? How are those 
who serve him better off than those who do not ? I 
tell you it is nonsense, the whole of it ! Anyway, if 
there is a God, he doesn’t need our knowledge, and it 
doesn’t make any difference to him what I do with 
mine.” 

It has been well said, ‘ he doesn’t need our ignor- 
ance, either,’ ” said Rob, significantly. If we could 
look into all of God’s plans, and could know just the 
work that he designed for Paul Elverton to do, we might 
perhaps venture to pass judgment as to the wisdom of 
this providence. But as we do not know, we have no 
right to question. Paul himself feels that he has no 
right to do anything but trust and wait.” 

“ If he can do so, I am sure he is welcome to such 
poor comfort,” replied Clayton, with a sneer. 

I do not think you would call it ^ poor comfort,’ 
if you could talk to him for a while. He is wonder- 
fully sustained in what we all must feel to be a very 
sad affliction. Edith’s faith is beautiful, and she has 
been a great help to him in these dark hours. At one 
time he felt almost like despairing ; but she pointed him 

upward, and prayed for him Avith unwavering faith.” 

o 


210 


HIS CHOICE. 


By tlie way,” asked Clayton, carelessly, is Edith 
going to marry him now, blind and disfigured as he 
is?” 

“ Most certainly she will; why not?” asked Bob, 
with some indignation at the cool question. 

Oh, well ; every one to his liking. I did not 
know that Paul would wish to take advantage of her 
promise given under such different circumstances. 
What will he do now to support a wife ? For he is 
only a poor fellow. Will he go and live at her 
home ? ” 

You are mistaken in several particulars. Paul is 
not the man to take unfair advantage of any one. I 
know that he offered to release Edith from her engage- 
ment, and she refused. And I assure you, Paul is of 
too independent a character to be willing to live in the 
way you mention. Moreover, he is not the poor man 
he once was.” 

The last statement was quite in Clayton’s line, and 
he replied : 

Indeed? I supposed him to be as poor as a 
church mouse. His fortunes must have changed since 
the day he graduated Lu a gray suit. Did some fairy 


HIS CHOICE. 


211 


queen turn up in the nick of time, as they always did 
in the story books of our youth he asked, half 
mockingly. 

The fairy was in the form of an old and desolate 
uncle — or great uncle, I believe it was — whom he met 
in the city while pursuing his studies. It was when 
returning from his deathbed that Paul met with his 
terrible accident. The old gentleman was much 
pleased with PauFs studiousness, perseverance, and 
Christian kindliness, and he has left all his prop- 
erty to him. I understand it is of considerable value ; 
and I, for one, am heartily glad for Paul.” 

^^Oh, to be sure. I am too,” replied Clayton. 

Of course, in that case, it isnT so bad for Edith, 
though I always thought she might have done better.” 

Kob turned and looked at the man beside him, 
while some of the contempt which he felt found ex- 
pression in his face. Clayton was at that moment 
absorbed in watching rays of light reflected from his 
diamond ring, and did not see that expression. 

I should not consider that Edith needed much of 
your pity, even if this independence had not come to 
Paul. He has become strong by climbing. He can- 


212 


HIS CHOICE. 


not now be contentedly useless, though blind. His life 
of hard discipline has made him such a man as one 
rarely meets ; and it is my opinion that the world will 
hear from him yet, if not in Armenia, in America. 
The world needs more such men, and will listen to 
them.’^ 

Clayton shrugged his shoulders again. 

All very grand, I suppose ; but I am no friend to 
‘ climbing,’ or ^ hard discipline ’ either, I confess. I 
would rather be unheard of in the world, than to go 
through hardships to gain a hearing. My ambition is 
not so high.” 

^^You misunderstand me, if you think I mean 
that it was Paul’s ambition to be known. It is not. 
I remember hearing him say once that it made little 
difference whether or not he was ever known in the 
world, if by his life he could let others know of his 
Master. His only ambition is to glorify Christ by 
doing the will of God. He has lived his life con- 
scientiously ; and God has honored, and I believe 
will honor him,” said Eob. 

“ Oh, well ; as you please. I don’t know that I 
am especially interested in the matter,” said Clayton, 


HIS CHOICE. 


213 


carelessly. “Probably you know by this time that 
my highest ambition is to have an easy time in life.’^ 

“ Not a very exalted one, it strikes me,’^ said Rob. 

“ Exalted enough to suit me. In fact, any other is 
rather too much trouble. And what is the use in it? 
remarked Clayton. 

“ Well,’^ said Rob, rather dryly, “it is a fact there 
does not seem to be much use in some people living. 
Still, it is largely their own fault. God has put us 
here to glorify him, and to be active, useful helpers to 
each other. We cannot do this by seeking our own 
ease. Clayton, why not look at these things seri- 
ously? Don’t you see how you propose wasting your 
whole life ? And what excuse can you offer for it ? ” 

“ To whom need I offer an excuse, pray ? You are 
not my judge, though you seem to be trying to assume 
that dignity,” said Clayton, loftily. 

“ No, indeed I am not. But there is one Judge, 
even God.” 

Rob spoke very seriously. Clayton, however, as- 
sumed an air of careless indifference as he made 
answer : 

“Well, I assure you I am an exceedingly clever 


214 


HIS CHOICE. 


fellow, and never knowingly did anything so very 
wicked. For what do you think he can hold me 
accountable ? ” 

Perhaps it will be on the score of what you have 
left undone, rather than for what you have done. God 
has given you large opportunities for good, and you 
are deliberately throwing them all aside. And, for 
the life to come, how can you hope to escape if you 
neglect so great salvation? Seriously, Clayton, it is 
time you thought of these things,’’ urged Rob. 

^^And, seriously, I have no notion of doing any 
such thing ; and you are wasting breath to think of 
it,” replied Cla^don. It would be very hard indeed 
to judge a fellow for what he has not done.” And he 
reiterated that he had little interest in anything, or 
any one, so long as he himself could have an easy 
time. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


CLAYTON AS CLERK. 

^LAYTOX CARMOX succeeded in persuading 
^ his mother to entrust the management of her 
affairs to him, and the result was what might have 
been expected. 

The Garmon residence was once more thrown open 
to society, Clayton and Xora welcoming their friends 
with lavish hospitality. For a while everything 
seemed to be going on well. But before long Clayton 
discovered that they were living beyond their now 
diminished income. This was not a pleasant dis- 
covery, and he frowned and assumed an air of serious 
determination, saying : Something must be done.” 

It did not, however, seem to occur to him that 
this something” ought to be to lessen present 
expenses, or for him to enter upon some work that 
would increase their income. Extravagant habits had 
grown upon him till they seemed a necessity; and as 

for work, that would be a very unwelcome duty. 

215 


216 


HIS CHOICE. 


Clayton had once said that if he found himself in 
financial difficulties he would marry a rich woman. 
He had married one who had every prospect of 
wealth, but her father was no longer a rich man. Mr. 
E-ead had failed in business ; and now, in his old age, 
he had to begin at the bottom of the ladder, and it 
was with great difficulty that he could meet the 
demands of a large family, the members of which 
had never been taught the first lesson of self-denial. 
It was therefore useless to look for help from him. 

When Clayton told his wife how matters stood, she 
raised her blue eyes to him in the greatest amazement, 
and asked : 

What is to be done? What can be done ? I don’t 
see how we can help it ! It is very unfortunate that 
father has lost all his money. But what is to be done? ” 
After asking her vain and hopeless question, Nora 
gave her nurse directions concerning the dark-blue 
velvet suit in which Clayton, Jr., was to be dressed, 
and the light merino to be worn by her little girl for 
an afternoon visit, and then she settled herself to a bit 
of useless fancy work, as if that were the end and 
aim of life. 


HIS CHOICE. 


217 


Something must be done ! Clayton reiterated. 
And at that moment it did enter his mind to regret 
the poor use he had made of his time when pretend- 
ing to study medicine. 

Just then he saw Rob Senderling driving past in - 
his carriage, with his wife and little daughter. And 
for a moment he regretted that he had not gone into 
the store when Rob did.*" Still there were the old 
objections. He knew that even yet Rob was gener- 
ally pretty closely confined to the business — and that 
did not suit his notions. 

• But he still frowned, and said: ^‘Something must 
be done ! ” His capital meanwhile was dwindling 
away at a rapid rate. One day he heard of the suc- 
cessful speculation of a friend, in a matter with about 
as much business principle in it as is found in the 
workings of an ordinary lottery. Still, that was no 
objection to Clayton’s mind. To derive profit from 
something on which he had bestowed no labor suited 
his ideas exactly. The whole plan struck him as an 
exceedingly good one, and he decided to invest. In 
imagination, he saw wonderful fortunes before him. 
In reality, he lost all that he invested. 


218 


HIS CHOICE. 


A somewhat similar operation was one day, not 
long after, proposed to him, and he spoke of it to 
Rob Senderling. The young business man gathered 
his brow into a thoughtful frown as he listened, and 
then advised his friend to steer clear of any such 
schemes to swindle the unwary.” 

Clayton did not take this advice, but foolishly said 
that Rob was jealous of his prospects of success. 

It is true he had lost before, but he was sure he 
would win this time. 

But he did not. 

In less than two years Clayton Carmon had nothing 
left of the handsome fortune that might have been 
such a help, but that really had proved such a hin- 
drance, to him in life. Even the house in which they 
lived was no longer theirs, for he had mortgaged 
it so heavily that he could hardly hope to pay the 
interest. 

His mother complained bitterly, and was as un- 
reasonable in her fault-finding as she had been in her 
former over-indulgence. But now indeed something 
must be done. He had borrowed money of whoever 
had been willing to lend it. That number was grow- 


HIS CHOICE. 


219 


ing rapidly less, and it was evident that now he must 
do something himself. 

After some consideration he applied to his old school 
friend, E-ob Senderling, for a situation in his employ. 
He felt that it was mortifying in the last extreme to 
go to him , but what else could he do ? He had a 
wife and three children now to support, and their 
support meant a great deal. 

“ I don’t know what I have ever done to deserve 
such hard luck,” he said, dolefully. 

‘^This is no time for a lecture, or I should un- 
doubtedly be tempted to tell you it is just what you 
have not done that has brought you to this,” Rob 
replied. 

have heard that nonsensical opinion of yours 
before. Some people are born to be unfortunate, and 
certainly I am one of them. The fates are against 
me,” said Clayton. 

“ A man’s own self is a greater enemy to his good 
fortune than ‘ the fates ’ can be. If you had taken 
up any proper work when you left school, and stuck 
to it like a man, you would not have been where you 
are to-day. If ^ the fates’ (I do not believe in them. 


220 


HIS CHOICE. 


you know) could have done their worst, they could 
not have harmed you.” 

Clayton moved uneasily. He could not help ac- 
knowledging the truth of these plain words. He 
answered in sullen, dogged tones ; 

Well, if you are pleased to look at it so, you may. 
But talking of the past does not help either the pres- 
ent or the future.” 

^^Not unless you learn a lesson from the past by 
which you can profit for the future,” replied Rob. 

But what do you want at present ? A position in 
the store?” 

What have you to offer ?” asked Clayton, and he 
flushed as if he felt that he were doing something 
beneath his dignity. 

There is no position now available^ except that of 
salesman. We might take another on in the dress 
goods department, for the busy season is approaching.” 

This was the very department and the very counter 
to which Clayton would have gone, if he had accepted 
his father’s ofier years ago w^hen he had just left 
school. He could not help remembering that at this 
moment. 


HIS CHOICE. 


221 


What salary do you pay ? 

Rob mentioned the amount. . Clayton curled his 
lip in contempt, though in his present need he had no 
actual idea of refusing the position. 

That would about keep me in cigars and my ^yife 
in bonbons,” he replied. 

‘‘Very well. I wish you success in obtaining 
something better, though I think you will find the 
wages I mention will compare favorably with those 
of any business house in town for a like position. 
Good-morning ! ” 

Rob bowed and turned to meet a young man who 
had entered a moment before, and now stood at a 
little distance apparently awaiting an interview. 

He was an applicant for a position. He wished to 
learn the business, and offered excellent testimonials. 

Rob consulted his father, and the result was that 
the young man was presently established in the posi- 
tion that for a second tinie had been offered to 
Clayton. 

It was nearly two months before Rob and he met 
again. It had been two months of rapid failure for 
him; two months of exceedingly unhappy domestic 


222 


HIS CHOICE. 


relations; two months in which he was looking for 
something to do; two months of useless regret for 
the past. 

At the end of that time he dejectedly remarked 
that half a loaf was better than no bread at all/^ 
and once more he visited the store of Senderling & 
Son. 

The young man who had been taken on the morn- 
ing of his former application had shown himself so 
faithful, apt, and desirous to learn the business in all 
its branches, that he had just been called to another 
position. 

The spring trade was over, and the dull time usual 
in the summer did not absolutely require another in 
his place at present. Still the place was vacant, and 
Rob remembered it. 

I do not see that we can help you,’^ he said, when 
he learned Clayton’s errand. We have no vacancy 
except that of salesman, and that you do not wish.” 

But now Clayton swallowed his pride, and most 
ungraciously entered upon his new duties. He never 
took more interest in what he was doing than barely 
sufficient to insure his pay. If he ever dreamed of 


HIS CHOICE. 


223 


promotion, his hopes were never realized ; for he was 
never found worthy of it. 

One morning Rob stood by his counter, ostensibly 
looking for a piece of handsome goods from which he 
wished a dress pattern to be sent home to his wife. 
His chief object, however, was to gain the oppor- 
tunity to speak to Clayton alone, before any customers 
came into the store. 

Clayton watched him for a few moments in silence, 
and then exclaimed : 

‘‘Well, Rob, who would ever have thought that 
things would come to this pass ! You the employer, 
and I the poor employee. But I believe some men 
were born to misfortune. I am sure I can’t see that 
I deserve so hard a life.” 

“We will not speak of that just now,” replied 
Rob. “ You have long neglected the salvation that 
Christ offers to you, and I fear that you are in 
danger of losing infinitely more in the life to come 
than 

“ Nonsense ! ” cried Clayton, interrupting him with 
his usual air of superior knowledge. But Rob was 
not to be interrupted ; for he felt very much in 


224 


HIS CHOICE. 


earnest, and was anxious to finish what he had to 
say before any customers were likely to come in. 

‘‘There is no nonsense about it, Clayton. You 
have lived long enough to learn how much may be 
lost by neglect of earthly possessions. But the 
matters of eternity are of infinitely greater import- 
ance than these. And there is no hope of escape if 
we neglect Christ. Let me earnestly beg of you to 
give serious consideration to these important matters.’^ 

“ One might suppose I was a Hottentot heathen to 
hear you talk,” said Clayton, churlishly. 

“ No, you are not ; but if you persist in refusing 
to listen to the invitations of Christ, and close your 
eyes to the light, it would be better for you if you 
had been.” 

“ I have heard quite enough of your preaching,” 
said Clayton, assuming an air of dignity. “ If I am 
obliged to degrade myself to be in your employ, it 
does not follow that I must listen patiently to all the 
insults that you choose to offer.” Clayton drew him- 
self up and turned aside. 

Kob was too deeply grieved for words, and went 
sadly away from the counter. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

SAD CLOSE OF CLAYTON’s LIFE. 

rpHE young man who occupied the position of clerk 
at the dress goods counter next to Clayton Car- 
mon, in the firm of Senderling & Son, was an expert 
penman, and not infrequently the moments that were 
unoccupied with customers were spent in practicing 
penmanship. 

It occurred that the afternoon before the conversa- 
tion which we have recorded between Rob Senderling 
and his former school-fellow took place, had been a 
dull, rainy one, during which comparatively few pur- 
chasers had been out ; and he had written over a great 
sheet of wrapping-paper with his clear, round, beau- 
tiful characters and pretty, fancy flourishes. 

There was one sentence traced there oftener than 
any other. Over and over again, almost as if it had 
been a set task, were the words : 

“Every man is the architect of his own fortunes.” 

There were other quotations there : two or three of 
P 226 


226 


HIS CHOICE. 


poetry and several from the Bible, and one or two 
from well-known words of public men; and then 
there were the firm names and the names of several 
of his fellow-clerks, and pretty flourishing capitals 
here and there; but this one that is referred to, both 
from its frequency and regularity, was most prominent 
of all. 

Clayton Carmon had seen it there before he went 
home the night previous, and he had curled his lip 
and told himself that it was not true ; that a hard and 
cruel fate had planned his fortune ; that he himself 
had been given no voice in it, and that luck ” had 
favored Rob Senderling and others of whom he 
thought just then. 

Oh no ! he did not believe a word of it ! He had 
said as much to the writer of it ; but that young man 
replied that he had a notion that every man was at 
least in large measure answerable for his own fate 
and his own luck,” and thereat the conversation was 
dropped. 

The junior partner, who was always at his post early 
in the morning, saw the pencil-covered sheet on the 
counter when he had first entered, and stopped to 


HIS CHOICE. 


227 


admire the handwriting. A closer inspection led him 
also to admire the evident spirit of the writer, as he 
read this and other sentences traced there. 

He picked up the sheet and carried it to his own 
desk. He might some day stand in need of just such 
a penman, and the one who had chosen these quota- 
tions was one who would probably make the best of 
himself and of his opportunities. How little did he 
realize when he wrote those thoughtful sentences in 
that well-trained hand how he might be building his 
own fortune in that very act ! 

When, grieved beyond the power of words to 
express, Rob Senderling turned away from the counter 
of his perverse and self-blinded clerk, he walked 
slowly toward the door of the store, and had nearly 
reached it, when his pastor entered. 

He had come to seek the aid of the young business 
man in some matter of deep interest to the well-being 
of the church, sure that in him he would find both 
the willingness and the ability needed for the emer- 
gency. 

The young man invited him back to his private 
office, and sat down to his desk with his brow still 


228 


HIS CHOICE. 


clouded, and his heart still heavy for another’s blind 
perversity, which was so evidently leading him to his 
ruin. 

Sitting there by the desk his eye fell upon the sheet 
of scribbled paper with its oft-repeated sentence. He 
turned it half-way round, and, pointing to it, asked ; 

Pastor, do you really believe that ? ” 

“Under God — ^yes,” replied the pastor, looking 
straight at his young friend. And then he asked, as 
Rob still sat with contracted brow : 

“Has something seemed to go wrong with you, 
Rob? Remember it is your Father who rules above, 
and his wisdom can see as much farther than ours as 
his love is deeper.” 

“ It is nothing in my own life, sir. In a wonder- 
ful manner has God given me all the desires of my 
heart. I have worked hard, and striven faithfully to 
be worthy of his blessing, and he has not withheld 
it,” replied Rob, .with a thankful look upon his 
manly face. 

“ I do not believe he ever does withhold it from 
those who thus honestly work and strive; and we do 
not really choose that for which" we are not willing 


HIS CHOICE. 


229 


thus to work and strive/’ replied the pastor, with 
the emphasis of strong conviction. 

‘‘ How about Paul Elverton ? ” asked Kob, swing- 
ing around in his chair so as to more exactly face his 
visitor ; though in reality the question was asked more 
for the sake of argument than because he considered 
him an exception to the rule that had just been stated. 

The desire of Paul Elverton’s heart was to serve 
the cause of Christ and of humanity in the world ; 
and I am sure that God will yet bless him with the 
carrying out of that desire, even if it be not in the 
way that he planned.” 

Eob Sehderling sat for several moments apparently 
thoughtfully examining the toe of his finely-polished 
boot. Then his pastor spoke again : 

‘‘ Why, certainly, my boy. Don’t you see it ? 
What would have been the use in God creating us 
free agents, capable of choice and action, if he had not 
intended that that choice, and the action dependent 
upon that choice, should govern our lives and desti- 
nies ? The responsibility of his living rests upon every 
individual man, woman, and child before God. We 
are ‘ the architects of our own fortunes.’ You re- 


230 


HIS CHOICE. 


member how some poet (wasn't it Fletcher?) has 
put it : 

“ ‘Man is his own star, and the soul that can 
Bender an honest and a perfect man, 

Commands all light, all influence, all fate ; 

Nothing to him falls early or too late : 

Our acts our angels are, if good ; if ill. 

Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.’ 

" Why, we see it illustrated in every-day life and 
upon every side. The man who intelligently wills to 
make his life a noble success in any line seldom fails 
in the attainment of his desire, or else to that which 
God sees is better for him — that which, if he were 
brave enough, would have been his desire if he had 
known all that God knows.” 

‘‘ But, sir, there are many — oh, there are so many ! 
— failures in life. Yet surely no man wills to fail 
utterly and completely in his living,” objected Bob ; 
and the pain which he felt at the blind failure of his 
schoolmate, expressed itself again in his voice and his 
dejected manner ; for the thought clogged his heart 
as a heavy weight. 

^‘They fail in a large majority of cases because 
their standard is wrong, or because they do not will 


HIS CHOICE. 


231 


to make their lives a success. We forget that nega- 
tive good is positive wrong. See how that thought 
runs through all Scripture. We are exhorted to 
choose life, or our hearts will be drawn away after the 
things which tend toward death ; to give most earnest 
heed to the gospel, lest at any time it slip from us. 
To strive to enter in at the straight gate, lest we drift 
into the broad way of sin, whose ingress is so very 
easy. The promise concerning the land of Canaan 
was wide and abundant, and strength would have 
been 'given to conquer every inch of the land ; but 
the children of Israel were to enjoy only so much as 
they actually possessed by right of conquering and 
holding for their own. Ours is a life of struggle and 
constant contest. We cannot hope to drift into any- 
thing good or worthy of our manhood. Grod has 
honored us by giving us the ability to be men if we 
will. And now the matter rests with us. The 
promise of salvation in the life to come is to whoso- 
ever will — that is, he who wills in accordance with 
God’s will; and thus, willing, does as^od com- 
mands. And I verily believe that whosoever wills 
in this present world to ^ave his life to honor and 


232 


HIS CHOICE. 


usefulness, may do so. He whose will is positively 
set toward God in his own appointed way, God will 
acknowledge and receive to his home at last; and he 
whose will is positively and intelligently set toward 
the achievement of an honorable and a high-toned 
life here below, under God may reach that too. That 
line is true. We are, therefore, the architects of our 
own fortunes.’^ 

The pastor had become quite warm and enthusiastic 
on his subject, and spoke with convincing energy, 
though Rob had not from the first really doubted its 
truth. 

I believe you are right, sir,’’ said the younger 
man, now thoughtfully shaking his head. But then 
he added, with a heavy sigh, I sometimes wish I 
could furnish wills — the right kind of wills — for 
some whom I know.” 

“ Ah ! but that is where the individual responsi- 
bility comes in ! If you could furnish that to bo 
measured off as you do your dress goods, or the suc- 
cessful resists of it, the free agency of man would be 
at once lost. But I do not wonder that you feel so, 
for 1 do very often. My work for the Lord brings 


HIS CHOICE. 


233 


me in contact with many people whose blindness, or 
weakness, or ignorance seems so apparent to me, that 
I do most heartily wish I could choose for them ; but 
that is impossible. The best we can do is to point 
out the way both by our words, and by our own lives, 
and then to leave the rest in God’s hands. You 
have done this for the individual case you have in 
view ? ” 

I have tried to do it, but it seemed of little use/’ 
replied Kob. 

‘‘ If you have conscientiously done this, your duty 
is accomplished. The responsibility rests upon him. 
How I shudder sometimes when I think of that re- 
sponsibility as it must appear in God’s sight ! ” said 
this good man, gravely. 

Rob put out his hand as if to shut some dark visiorf 
away from his sight ; and at that moment there came 
to him a clearer realization of the responsibility of 
Christian living, and of the awful, a\yful responsibility 
of wn-Christian living, than ever in his life before. 
How must God look upon a voluntarily wasted life, 
so far as this world is concerned, and a voluntarily 
forfeited one in the next? 


234 


HIS CHOICE. 


A few months later, Clayton Carmon had been 
invited to form one of a gay yachting party, who 
were going that evening for a moonlight sail on the 
river. His wife, broken in health, and soured in dis- 
position, could not go. She said, pettishly, that she 
had nothing to wear, and must stay at home to make 
over little Nora^s last year’s dress. 

Nora Carmon was not a happy woman. The pride 
and self-indulgence of her past life had not prepared 
her for happiness in their altered circumstances. She 
was not sorry to-night that Clayton was going and 
she was to remain at home. The very presence of her 
husband had become annoying to her. 

She allowed him to go out that night without one 
pleasant word of farewell. What bitter and unavail- 
ing regrets she thereby laid up for herself ! 

Some of the yachting party had been drinking 
deeply. All were gay and thoughtless. There was 
mismanagement on board ; and when a sudden gust 
struck the sail, the yacht capsized, and in a moment 
the laughing, careless fellows were struggling for their 
lives in the deep waters. A number were saved by 

a passing boat ; but Clayton, with two others, were 

p 


HIS CHOICE. 


235 


so much exhausted that it was impossible to restore 
their vital powers. 

Thus Clayton went out of this world, leaving no 
one the better, the happier, the more useful, for his 
having lived. Thus he entered the eternal world 
without a moment’s time for tardy repentance, and 
having all his life neglected so great salvation. 


CHAPTER XXIY. 


ALL THINGS WOEK TOGETHEK FOR GOOD. 

D uring those first days of suffering, of darkness, 
and disappointed hopes, Paul Elverton was 
strongly tempted to ask, Why is all this ? He had 
been so certain that he had been doing God’s will, and 
preparing to do his work, that he could not under- 
stand this providence. 

It was then that Edith Hendry received a part of 
the answer to her prayer that she might be a help to 
him. It was when the strong man’s faith was almost 
staggered at this sudden reversal of all his plans that 
the woman’s trustful confidence in the wise dealings 
of a loving Father failed not, and was beyond measure 
helpful to him. 

It is very hard for us to understand, Paul dear,” 
she said, as she sat by the lounge and held his hand. 

It is very hard for us to understand, yet God knows. 
He makes no mistakes, and we are in the right place, 

if we are where he puts us.” 

236 


HIS CHOICE. 


237 


“ But think of those perishing souls, who are dying 
without having heard of Christ. Think of those poor 
bodies that are suffering without relief. I was so sure 
God wanted me to go to them. In all these years of 
preparation I have constantly asked him to guide. 
And now that I am just ready to start, and you were 
ready to go with me — oh, Edith, why does he let such 
things be ? 

Because he is God, and knows more than you and 
I do, Paul. We are weak, and know but little. To 
us it seems the end of all our hopes and plans. To 
God it may be the beginning of better ones,” she 
replied, with firm trust. 

“ But how can that be ? I never was half thankful 
enough for my eyes. But what can I do for him 
now ? ” 

‘‘I do not know to-day. Wait, and he will show 
us. To-day you have only to ^ wait patiently on the 
Lord,’ and to get well as fast as you can. When you 
are well and strong, and ready to take up life’s burden 
again, he will show you. He shows us only one step 
at a time. Perhaps, if we saw farther, we might 
forget or neglect the present duty ; and since he has 


238 


HIS CHOICE. 


not shown us, we must not question his gracious 
leadings.” 

I felt so sure that 1 was right — that all I was 
doing, and hoped to do, was in accordance with his 
plans — that I feel staggered now. Even my years of 
preparation are thrown away,” he said. 

‘‘ How do you know that ? ” 

How can it be otherwise ? I cannot go to Arme- 
nia now.” 

Perhaps not ; but you cannot say positively that 
your preparation and training have been thrown away. 
Wait patiently until God shows you ‘ what you should 
do.’” 

Paul tried to wait patiently, and gradually he 
learned the precious lesson of perfect trust. 

There were moments of darkness when the tempta- 
tion to doubt was very strong, but then Edith would 
ask : 

^^Have you forgotten so soon the promise ^all 
things work together for good to them that love 
God’?” 

No, Edith, I have not forgotten.” 

. And you love God ? ” 


HIS CHOICE. 


239 


Yes, Edith, I am sure of that. I will accept this 
as one of his ^ all things,^ and expect good out of it 
yet.” 

It was a memorable day when the bandages were 
first removed. Edith was present, and Paul heard 
the voice that he loved, saying in tones sweet and 
low : 

There will be no sightless eyes in heaven. I can 
almost imagine, dearest, that you will enjoy the 
light of that city better than I, because for a little 
while God leads you in darkness here.” 

How Paul thanked her for those blessed words ! 
Stretching out his hands toward her in that piteous 
way peculiar to those who cannot see, he said ; 

I almost feel as if the Lord had taken very little 
from me, so long as he has left to me your love, my 
Edith. I thank him for that every hour of my 
life.” 

Mr. Hendry had attended in PauFs stead the 
funeral of his uncle. The will when opened had 
revealed the fact that the old man had made his 
nephew sole heir of his property which, though not 
so large, would yield a comfortable support. Mr. 


240 


HIS CHOICE. 


Hendry attended to the settling up of all necessary 
legal matters. 

As soon as Paul had recovered, so far as he ever 
would recover, from the effects of that terrible fall, he 
and Edith were married. 

I must be eyes for you now,’^ she had said, when 
she first heard of his blindness. And who could be 
that so well as a wife ? 

It was of course a very quiet wedding. The 
immediate family, and Edith’s intimate school friends, 
Reba and Rob Senderling, were the only persons 
present. 

Edith,” said Paul, a few days after that event, 
if I could see, I would write a letter for publica- 
tion upon the need of workers in the missionary field, 
and the best method of preparation for usefulness 
there.” 

Well, Paul, you shall dictate, and I will write. 
I am glad you are finding a way for me to be eyes 
for you,” she replied. And forthwith writing mate- 
rials were brought, and they two set about their 
united task. 

That was the first of a series of articles. Many an 


HIS CHOICE. 241 

hour Edith wrote at his dictation. Then she read 
and revised as he directed, and carefully prepared the 
manuscript for the press. 

People read these articles, and understood as they 
never had understood before. His darkened eyes and 
disappointed hopes of usefulness seemed to make him 
more than ever alive to the necessities of the case, and 
article followed article, each one with more power 
than its predecessor. 

His words came from his own full heart, and they 
stirred the hearts of noble men and women, leading 
many to give of their means, and some to give 
themselves, to carry on the work of God. 

Though Paul never went abroad himself, his influ- 
ence did ; and though Paul never told the story of 
the cross in person, nor healed the sufferings of those 
far across the waters, he aroused others to go on the 
same mission he had once planned for himself. 

He wrote also upon medical themes, and writing 
from the standpoint of a thoughtful Christian student, 
God used his words with power. And many a sweet, 
helpful little poem found its way into the papers under 

his initials. They were poems such as we take into 

Q 


242 


HIS CHOICE. 


our every-day life, and which help to make us 
stronger and better Christians. 

Paul Elverton supposed his work finished, when 
he suddenly found his plans interfered with; but 
Edith spoke the truth when she said, The end of 
our plans may be but the beginning of God^s larger 
ones.^^ 

Edith was kept very busy in her office of eyes for 
the blind. She was very happy in her work of use- 
fulness, and thankful that God had permitted her to 
enter on it. 

Reba Senderling came often to visit her friends, 
and often helped them both, even when she little 
knew of it. 

The conscious help was generally given by reading 
in her clear, sweet, even voice, something that Paul 
wanted to hear. The unconscious help was given, 
sometimes by her very presence, but more often by 
her music — for music has a wonderful charm and 
resting power to those who are wearied with literary 
work. 

Reba had long ago given up the desire to be 
famous. But she sang in the church choir ; and she 


HIS CHOICE. 


243 


played the organ in the church prayer-meetings; and 
sometimes she seemed to make her very notes a prayer. 
She was never known now to refuse to give to others 
the pleasure and help of her rare talent. She felt that 
it was a gift which God had given her, and bidden her 
to “ neglect not.” And in this use of it she found a 
joy far surpassing any which could have come to her 
througlj the channel of gratified vanity. 

Sitting in their pew in church, or listening^ to lier 
song at home, her father and mother, and even her 
once teasing brother Charlie, thanked God for the 
power and sweetness and tenderness of that voice. 

What would not E,eba had lost had she neglected 
her, gift ! Diligently she strove to improve and to 
use it, and God made it a blessing to many. 

When Nora Garmon was almost overwhelmed by 
the great sorrow which had come to her, Edith and 
Keba, with gentle, loving sympathy, shown both in 
word and in deed, strove to soothe her breaking heart. 
Edith’s wise and loving words, and Reba’s sweet 
songs of heavenly consolation, reached at length tlie 
heart that had been so long hardened by selfishness 
and frivolity. And, as it softened under the influ- 


244 


HIS CHOICE. 


ence of the prayers and gentle counsels of these 
earnest Christian women, the good seed of the word 
sprang up and bore fruit to the glory of God. 

Nora’s earnest desire now was to train up her chil- 
dren for Christ and his service, and her fervent prayer 
for them was that early in life they might choose the 
good part. 


THE END. 







